I Will Remember You
by A Bloody Vampire
Summary: AU. Set after 6x23. What if Peyton had died that fateful day after the wedding? Would Brooke have taken care of Lucas and Sawyer like she promised to? BL. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **None of these characters belong to me as you all may know.

**A/N:** This was just totally random – and useless, really. After all, Brucas is long dead and gone (on OTH anyway). But it's been an idea that has been bugging me for ages, and now that I'm free for a little while, I decided, why the hell not? We all know how Leyton is oh so precious to Mark. And we also know how he built up all the drama about how Peyton MAY die – with the goodbye videos and her telling Brooke to look after Lucas (I actually added that scene here). So I decided, what if she DID die? And what if Brooke helped Lucas take care of Sawyer? And then later, show Sawyer her mother's goodbye videos, the playlist, and then the drawings…?

I kinda got carried away, and I decided to write this. This is the first chapter and I really want to add another so we'll see how it goes! Just tell me what you guys think and if I should continue. Or if I'm just wasting my time. I haven't written a fanfic in ages so I might be a little rusty. My apologies! Just please review and I'll love you all. :)

o-o

**Chapter 1**

When Brooke went to visit Peyton after work and reached into her bag for the box of chocolates she'd bought as a gift, she realized with some surprise that the door to her friend's room was already open. She tiptoed inside quietly. The bed was empty, the curtains were closed. Brooke dropped the chocolates and closed her eyes. She didn't need to ask any of the nurses to know what had happened.

She quickly made her way to the front lobby, letting her hopes hang around her even though she already knew. But the minute she saw Lucas, his eyes swollen and sorrowful, these hopes began to float off, seeking better odds elsewhere.

"Lucas," she called, fighting to keep her voice even. She was surprised that her voice even carried that far.

He turned around slowly, and Brooke's heart dropped. His face was hard to look at, the sorrow so plain. He was more fragile than she had ever seen him, here with his agony and nothing else. Without saying a word, Brooke wrapped her arms around him, and slowly, she felt his arms fold around her own waist.

There was a long moment of silence, and Lucas was the first to break it. "It happened quickly," he murmured, still holding her.

Brooke swallowed hard, blinking back the tears. "Did you see her?"

"I was there."

"I wish I was there," Brooke said, and a maverick sob escaped her throat.

Lucas nodded slowly and pulled her head under his chin. "You were there," he replied.

o-o

"_If anything happens, I want you to take care of Lucas," Peyton suddenly said, making Brooke freeze. Their gazes locked in the mirror. "If when the baby comes, if anything happens – okay?"_

"_Nothing's going to happen," Brooke insisted, tightening her grip around her friend's wedding dress. _

"_Brooke–"_

"_You shouldn't talk like that."_

"_Honey, we __have_ _to talk like this. Okay?" Peyton turned around so that they were standing face to face now. She reached out to hold Brooke's arms. "Everyone else is avoiding it, and I really need __you__ to hear me out."_

_The pleading look on the blonde's face made Brooke's throat ache. She'd never been able to deny Peyton anything, even when they were younger. "Okay," she finally relented helplessly, her eyes full. "It is just scary, that's all."_

"_I know," Peyton nodded, tearing up as well. It took her a moment to continue. "But…," she swallowed hard, "I don't want Lucas to be alone. Or our baby. Or _you_…" she said with a meaningful look. _

"_Peyton…"_

_Peyton swallowed hard, taking a minute to collect herself before she looked back at Brooke again. She forced a smile. _

_The sight made Brooke's heart break. _

"_Are you scared?" Brooke suddenly asked, fighting to keep her voice even._

"_I – I'm scared I'm going to miss it all," Peyton admitted. "My life with Lucas and the baby…" Her voice cracked, rough with emotion. "And my friends and my family. __You__…"_

_Brooke nodded, the tears spilling over. "It's not fair."_

_Peyton smiled before she gently brushed a finger across Brooke's cheek. "Hey," she said, making Brooke look at her again. There was so much love there, it was hopeless to try to stay away. "When I think about everyone else in the world that goes through their life alone? I think of the _amazing _years I've got to spend with my beautiful, _beautiful _best friend, Brooke Davis. I kind of feel sorry for everyone else," she suddenly chuckled, and Brooke found herself laughing, too, albeit a little tearfully._

"_You're going to ruin our wedding make up, you bitch," she scolded the blonde playfully, dabbing her eyes._

_They laughed again. "I'm sorry about that," Peyton smiled, forcing a deep breath._

_For a moment, both the friends just stared at each other, and Brooke felt the tears brewing for about the tenth time that evening. "If your stupid, skinny ass goes anywhere before I say it does, we're not best friends anymore," she told the blonde. "You got it?"_

"_I got it," Peyton nodded obediently. _

"_Okay."_

_When their gazes locked again, Brooke found herself memorizing every inch of Peyton's face. The small bump on her nose, the lines that fanned out from the corners of her eyes…her wiry, capable hands…_

"_I love you," Peyton suddenly said, her voice barely above a whisper._

_Brooke nodded, a sob escaping her throat, and she pulled Peyton into another hug. "I love you, too, P Sawyer. I always have and I always will."_

o-o

The church was filled with tragic faces, none more than hers, Brooke thought. Many of their former classmates had come, everyone who understood the grandness of Peyton.

Brooke watched as more people poured into the church. Haley walked in a few minutes later with Nathan and then Jamie, her face pale and tight. When she saw Brooke standing alone by the coffin, she hurried to her side at once. "I'm sorry," she murmured, holding Brooke tight, and Brooke nodded into her shoulder, fighting to remain calm.

It was hard to feel the right emotions at the right time. They didn't come at all when you set a place for them, and they sacked you when you weren't ready, when you were innocently flossing your teeth, for example, or eating a bowl of cereal.

From the corner of her eye, Brooke saw Lucas standing to the side with Sawyer in his arms, and fleetingly remembered the promise she'd made to Peyton just hours before the wedding. She couldn't even to begin to fathom how much harder this was for him. Not only had Lucas been the love of Peyton's life in their epic fairy tale, but he'd also been one of her good friends. He was such a friend, Brooke suspected, that all subsequent friends seemed counterfeit in comparison.

"She looks different," Brooke suddenly heard Jamie say, and was surprised to see the five year old still standing beside her. "She looks…happier."

Brooke reached down to take his hand and smiled sadly. "She does, doesn't she, handsome?"

Now that Jamie had mentioned it, Brooke realized that if you looked carefully at Peyton's pale, serene face it seemed as though she was smiling – as if, after all, death had come as a kind friend to lead her to the next world, instead of the grisly phantom we all dreaded.

"She looks like…an angel," Jamie breathed.

And she did. Peyton had always been beautiful, but her beauty had been of the earth, earthly. Death had, in some way, touched and consecrated it – doing what life and love and motherhood joys would have done for her.

As she looked at her old friend through a mist of tears, Brooke thought she saw the face God had meant Peyton to have.

Later, when Lucas handed Sawyer to Brooke so that the little girl's arms wrapped around her neck and her warm, solid form pressed against the length of her chest, Brooke saw a flash of Peyton. But it wasn't beside or even inside the coffin. Brooke saw her in the soft planes of her daughter's precious face.

**A/N: **I know its short, but its just the beginning. I apologize for any typos and/or grammatical errors. BUT...you know what to do. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The characters aren't mine.

**A/N: **All right so this chapter might be a bit boring, but it's also long so I hope that makes up for it. I guess it depends on how you look at it, really, lol! But I really do hope you guys like it. I had most of it written before which is why I updated quickly. But believe me, this won't be something that will be happening often, and I'm sorry for that! Believe me when I say, university will be the death of me, lol!

I find it incredibly ironic that the people who reviewed me (and I love you guys for it) are Leyton and Brulian fans. But guys, this is an AU fic. And the reason I love AU is because Brucas is very much a possibility in that world. But I really do hope I did Leyton justice in this chapter. I sort of liked Peyton towards the end of season 6 so I hope that shows – not to mention, I'm trying to think of how Mark would've written the show if Peyton had died. I also hope I did Brucas justice, too, lol, even though there isn't much of them. So far.

Oh, and there is a Peyton/Lucas scene in this chapter that is sort of like the Clay/Sara scenes in season 7. I'm just letting you know that Peyton is _not _alive, Lucas is just dreaming of her – as most of the characters on OTH seem to have a habit of doing, lol!

Anyway enough of me rambling! Here's the next chapter! Hope you guys like it! And oh –I apologize for any spelling and grammatical errors I might've made. This chapter was super long, and I really couldn't read it more than twice.

o-o

**Chapter 2**

Brooke found Lucas sitting by the fireplace, fiddling with Peyton's diamond ring. He looked particularly unkempt. He hadn't combed his hair or shaved in days. His shirt was dirty and his sky blue eyes were wild. The three empty bottles of alcohol on the table said volumes.

For just a moment, Brooke paused at the threshold, frightened. She couldn't go to him yet, not when she had her own sadness to deal with. But then she saw him press the heels of his hands into his eyes, and her compassionate side got the better of her. Besides, she was making the Cowardly Lion look like the Terminator right now. "Hey, how are you doing?" she asked softly as she went to sit beside him.

Lucas glanced up at her, but he didn't look surprised. Brooke doubted that he could look much of anything right now. "I've been better," he muttered, looking down at the ring again. His face was expressionless.

"Your mom told me that you weren't coping too well so I came by to check on you."

Silence.

"It's all right to feel sad, you know," Brooke said gently.

He ignored her. "I knew this could happen. I tried to be ready."

"You can't be ready, Luke. Not for something like this."

She leaned forward to hold his hand when she suddenly caught sight of a ravaged book by the side of his table. A few of its pages had been burnt to ashes, a few had been stamped upon, but most of it had been ripped out by a very angry person and crushed into paper balls that were strewn across the floor.

"Oh my god!" Brooke was on her feet in an instant, picking the remains up, "What happened to…"

She trailed off when she saw the novel's title and author on what was left of its front cover: _The Comet, Lucas Scott._

"Did _you_ do this?" Brooke turned to Lucas in shock. When he didn't answer immediately, she plunged on. "You destroyed your own book?"

He stood up abruptly and turned away from her, and her temper flared.

"Gosh, what have you been _doing_ to yourself, Luke?"

Ignoring the brunette, Lucas picked up his pencil cup and placed it back down; he restacked his books and papers, busying himself with useless tasks. Brooke forced a deep breath and counted to ten. _For Peyton_, she told herself. _For Peyton. _

"Lucas," she finally said, breaking the tensed silence. "We need to talk about this." Some of her pervious irritation seeped back in the when he continued to refuse to acknowledge her presence. "You know I could talk to your back all night if I wanted to."

Lucas shrugged, then finally spoke up. "Peyton's dead, Brooke. There's nothing to talk about."

"Sure there is," Brooke said flippantly. She knew that Lucas was hurting, but seeing that mutilated copy of _The Comet _made her so, _so_ mad. "Your daughter is wailing in the next room, begging to be fed, and here you are, drinking your ass to death."

Lucas whirled around so fast Brooke almost stumbled back in surprise. She saw something in his eyes she had never seen before, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he'd hit her.

"Get out," Lucas bit out. "Now."

"No, _you_ get out," Brooke stood her ground, glaring at him. "Do you even realize what you've done, Luke? You've destroyed the only book Peyton ever inspired. How do you think that would make her feel if she were alive?" Brooke demanded, and she sighed when she saw the pain flash across Lucas's face. He looked so broken, so defeated, she actually backed down for a second. "I miss Peyton, too," she said softly, her expression softening. "God, I cry for her every single day, but that doesn't give me the right to go around destroying everything that reminds me of her. It's wrong, Lucas, and even if you don't want to admit it right now, you know it's wrong too."

Their gazes locked for a short second, and Lucas abruptly sank down to the carpet weakly. His knees were drawn up, and his head was bent, as if the air around him was too heavy to keep him upright. The sight made Brooke's chest hurt. Lucas's pain had always cut her deeper than her own.

"Oh, Luke," she sighed heavily, standing in front of him. She bent down to pick up the ring he'd dropped on to the floor.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Lucas shook his head back and forth. "This wasn't supposed to be how it goes. I _finally_ chose her. Everyone kept telling me that once I chose her it would all be alright. This _wasn't_ supposed to happen!"

Brooke nodded sadly. "I know."

But Lucas continued as if she hadn't spoken. "She was supposed to be perfect, she was supposed to be here! With Sawyer. With _me_." His eyes filled up with tears that wouldn't fall. "She promised!"

"Lucas." She knelt down beside him and put both her hands on his shoulders. "Lucas, look at me." His eyes connected with hers, and they looked so lost and afraid that she almost broke down right then. "I know it's hard to believe right now, but we're going to get through this. I promise you," she whispered, and she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"But this is too difficult, Brooke," he whispered. "I just… I don't know what to do without her."

"All right, listen to me," she said, sounding determined now. "You remember when I started Clothes Over Bros? It was right after we broke up, and I was trying to mend my broken heart by focusing on my work. And you need to do the same right now. You need to go out there and become the best writer and the best _father_ that you can be to Sawyer, and then you try to fix those other parts. And if you succeed, well, then you know that you've done all right. Okay?"

"But what if I can't, Brooke?" His voice cracked, and his eyes pleaded for an answer that she couldn't give. "What if I _can't _fix myself? I mean," the words started flowing fast now. "how am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can hardly take care of myself right now?"

"Luke–"

"And how," he spoke over her, "_how _am I supposed to love Sawyer when it killed Peyton to have her?" he questioned softly, and Brooke froze. There was so much anguish in his words, so much shame that suddenly the damaged copy of _The Comet_ made sense.

"Oh, Lucas," Brooke instinctively tightened her grip on his shoulders as she spoke. "This isn't Sawyer's fault. Even if I don't understand why it happened, I know that much at least. And if you're honest with yourself, deep down… you know it, too," she said while her own tears began to cloud her vision. "You're going to love Sawyer, Luke. I know you will. Because she's your daughter. Because she's _Peyton's_ daughter. And because that's what Peyton would've wanted."

Lucas finally came undone. His shoulders slumped and his body started shaking. In his tears, he looked so much like a child that all Brooke wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and rock him to sleep. Which was exactly what she did.

"Come here," she said softly as she directed him to his bed and lied down beside him.

"I don't want to be alone," he mumbled from the crook of her neck, still trembling. "I just want her to be here again."

"I know." She tightened her hold on him and whispered soothing reassurances in his ear to calm him down. "It'll be okay," she whispered. "It's all going to be okay, you'll see. Just have a little faith, Luke."

"What if I don't have any left?" he whispered against her; a question so broken that Brooke couldn't stop the tears from spilling over.

"Then I'll give you all of mine."

o-o

Brooke had volunteered to stay and look after both Sawyer and Lucas. That included cleaning out the house, feeding Sawyer, bathing Sawyer…bathing _Lucas_… Not that she minded. She had nowhere to be, anyway – no thoughts to think, no best friend to hang out with.

Sipping her morning coffee and pulling into the intersection just in front of Lucas's house, Brooke mulled over this fact – and then thought about how drastically her life had changed in the days after Peyton's funeral. It was true what they said, you needed to change your rituals when someone you loved died; but this was so much more than that. She was the dead girl's best friend so, of course, in a town as small as Tree Hill, where everybody's business was everyone else's, people were going to treat her differently. It didn't escape her notice, for instance, that the elderly lady at the counter, with the enormously wide smile, had slipped in a complimentary packet of Skittles into her bag of groceries on more than one occasion. Or that, for more than a week now, the neighbors had thought it their duty to feed Lucas over and _over_ again by stuffing his refrigerator with all kinds of food, from Italian to Chinese. It seemed kind of sad to get the VIP treatment on account of being the most bereaved.

And then there were the random (one-sided) conversations Brooke sometimes found herself having with her late best friend. She had never been one to talk to the dead, or even really believe that by some miracle they heard their loved ones. That always been Peyton's scene. But now that Peyton herself was out there, she was kind of hoping they could.

She told Peyton about how Larry Sawyer had finally put up their old house for sale because the memories of both a dead wife _and_ daughter were just too much for him to bear. She told her about the new tenants, a young couple in their early thirties, and how just the thought of them scared the shit out of her. They had so much power to take a big chunk of her life away – her memories with Peyton mostly, and now that Peyton was gone, she couldn't make more of them. She had to hold on to what she had.

And she told her about Lucas – Lucas, who was struggling. Drowning in a sea of all consuming emotions. For whatever reason, he was unwilling to let anyone else in. Not his brother, not his best friend. Brooke doubted that Lucas would've even let _her_ in if she hadn't been at his side every waking hour of the day since Peyton's funeral.

"P. Sawyer, you've got to help me get through to him," she murmured into the silence of the car. "He's hurting because he wants you. _I'm_ hurting because _I_ want you, and I guess I'm just…scared, you know? So if you can hear me…," her voice tripped before she picked up again, "_please_ help me, help him."

It wasn't the first time she had made the same request and she suspected it wouldn't be the last either.

Nevertheless, talking to her best friend in the solitude of her car gave Brooke the confidence she needed on her way back to Lucas's. A confidence that began to wane as soon as she walked through the front door and was greeted with nothing but silence. "Luke?" she called out to no avail. "Lucas?"

Throwing her handbag on to the couch with a heavy sigh, Brooke walked down the hall to his closed bedroom door. She could hear no sound from within and didn't bother knocking before slowly pushing the door open.

He didn't appear to have moved since she left earlier that morning. With his eyes open, he continued to stare up at the ceiling, lost in whatever music that was blasting through the headphones that were securely encased in his ears. Brooke noticed that the black sports pants and gray t-shirt he wore were the same ones from the previous evening, which only further revealed his lack of movement.

Brooke sighed again. This was an instance where she'd have to go more than halfway, she thought to herself, before she purposefully pulled the headphones from his ears. "Maybe it's time you got up, don't you think, Scott?" Brooke informed him while fluttering around the room, searching for something Lucas could change into. "Haley and Nathan still have another hour baby-sitting Sawyer before I said I'd go pick her up. I'd come right back if I could. But I've got some sketches I need to get done for Maceys so I'm just going to order some Chinese take-out and have it at the store. You're more than welcome, of course, but we both know that's not going to happen so I'll just bring something over for you later, all right? Oh, and there's some left over spaghetti in the fridge if you get hungry before then."

Lucas didn't answer, and Brooke wasn't expecting him to. Silence was something she had reluctantly gotten used to in the days after his wife's death.

"Unless you want to start growing mold all over the place, it's about high time you went and took a shower," Brooke said and dropped a pile of clothes beside him.

"I don't care. Just leave me alone," he muttered without turning in her direction.

That did it. Brooke's temper flared after almost a week of walking a fine line between pity and anger; a tiring game of one step forward, two steps back.

"You know what, that's a great idea, Luke. I should just leave," she retorted. Sarcasm dripped from her every word as she leaned down to grasp his chin, refusing to let go until his blue eyes met hazel. "Then Sawyer – who by the way is your _daughter_ – can cry throughout the whole night. Not that you'd even hear her with these fucking headphones you have plugged into your ears twenty four/seven," she spat icily. "Or maybe I should just let Haley and Nathan watch over Sawyer instead, and then you won't have to worry about me coming in and out of your room, nagging you about essentials like showering and, oh, I don't know – _eatin_g."

Before he even opened his mouth, Brooke knew that her anger hadn't reached him. Defiant and so unlike the Lucas Scott she had grown to love and respect over the years, his response was low and unimpressed. "I never asked for your help," he said, proving her assumption correct.

"No, you didn't," Brooke agreed. "But Peyton did." Releasing his chin, she leaned back and quietly said, "I promised her that I'd help you get back on your feet again, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. So yell at me, hate me… whatever makes you feel better but don't, for one second, think that I'm going to walk away and let you wallow in your self-pity. Because I'm not."

She finished with a flourish, but Lucas didn't even do much as blink. Except for the slight melting of the ice in his blue eyes, he continued to stare at her with a somber expression.

"All right, look," she sighed after a moment, shaking her head when he remained mute. "I'm gonna go pick Sawyer up now, and I'll be at the store with her till about four so just… please get cleaned up by the time we get back. Okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, Brooke turned on her heel and walked out the side door. Birds chirped, flowers blossomed and the sun shone but she felt no happiness. Had no smile for the day. All Brooke could muster was the faint hope that sooner or later she'd get through to Lucas. For Peyton. And most of all for Sawyer.

o-o

"Brooke's right, you know," Peyton told Lucas as he watched the brunette leave through the front gate. "You _need_ a shower. You're stinking up the place, Luke," she grinned.

But Lucas's face didn't light up like his late wife's did. Instead, his eyes narrowed dangerously and he glared at the blonde apparition in front of him. More often than not, his mind played tricks on him and he'd often find himself talking to Peyton at the most unlikeliest of times. "Why do _you_ care? You're not even real," he snapped.

"Ouch," Peyton clutched at her heart in mock pain. "That hurts."

"Yeah, well, you hurt me," Lucas muttered, and Peyton's smirk slowly faded.

She sighed. "Luke," she said gently, stroking his arm, "I didn't do this on purpose."

"You promised you'd be here."

"I promised I'd _try_, and I did."

Lucas shook his head, swallowing hard. "It's not fair."

"_Life_ isn't fair, Lucas," Peyton murmured. "But you being miserable is never going to change that. I want you to be happy, you know. I don't want you to be alone. And I don't want you to give up on life, on _our _daughter."

He rubbed a hand over his tried face. "I just don't know how to liveanymore, Peyton."

She locked gazes with him, and refused to let go. "Well, don't clam up for one. Let people in, honey. Let Nathan and Haley in. Let _Brooke_ in…" she said with a meaningful look.

Lucas shook his head. "Brooke is…" he began, and then trailed off when he suddenly remembered his break down more than two nights ago.

_Unpleasantly awoken from his fitful slumber, Lucas felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. "Not again," he groaned. _

_In his haste, he hadn't shut the door completely and Brooke walked right in a few seconds behind him when she heard Lucas emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet. _

_He wanted to, but couldn't tell her about the nightmares he couldn't escape or how sick they had been making him. The reoccurring one he had every night since Peyton had died._

_He pictured his wife on the ground. The expressionless look on her face. The blood that pooled around her body and stained her white dress. _

_"Brooke," he groaned when he felt her kneel down behind him. _

It hurts_, Lucas longed to admit when he heard her say she was right there with him_. I'm scared

_The words stayed in his mouth while everything else came rushing out. _

_"I got you," Brooke told him when he had nothing left in his stomach to vomit and slumped against her, exhausted and nauseous. She cradled his sweat slicked body against hers, running her fingers through his unruly blonde locks. _

_"Don't tell anyone," he pleaded quietly, asking her to hide all that she had seen. _

_And even though he knew how much it would cost her, Lucas felt Brooke nod without hesitating._

"I don't know what I'd do without her," Lucas finally said, grimacing at the memory. "I mean, with Sawyer and…well, everything."

Peyton nodded. "She cares about you, Luke. Just…cut her some slack, all right? Don't give her such a hard time. She's trying her best."

Lucas shot his wife a sideways smile. "This feels like déjà vu," he told her.

Peyton smiled, too, knowing exactly what he was alluding to – that night after Keith's death when Brooke had thrown Lucas a party to help him heal. "Be nice," she said again.

Their gazes locked, and Lucas felt his smile slip. "I miss you, Peyton. I loved you so much."

She nodded, her eyes full. "I loved you, too, Lucas. More than life, more than anything."

"Will you be back?"

"Whenever you need me," Peyton reached across the ledge to squeeze his hand. "Just promise me that you'll look after Sawyer. That you'll show her what love is."

Lucas hesitated. "I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking. Oh, and one more thing?"

"Anything."

"Can you _please _go take a shower now?" Peyton wrinkled her nose, and Lucas couldn't but laugh.

o-o

As promised, Brooke returned at four, carrying Sawyer in one hand and a pizza box in the other. Aside from kinking her brow curiously, she made no comment about his clean clothes and freshly washed hair. "Why don't you get a couple of plates while I get Sawyer's carrier?" she suggested when the silence between them became palpable.

"Sure," he murmured in agreement.

"Thanks," Brooke replied and left Lucas alone with the food.

When she returned later, she expertly strapped Sawyer in her carrier and then picked up the bottle of milk she'd kept on the counter earlier. Shaking it a few times, Brooke opened the cap and held the bottle to Sawyer's lips, who started drinking greedily at once. "That's my girl," Brooke smiled at his daughter. "Aren't you a little sweetheart?"

Lucas watched in amazement as Sawyer giggled in response. But what shocked him even more was how his whole center seemed to soften at the sound.

"Unlike your daddy here," Brooke threw him a reproachful look, which startled him out of his thoughts. "If only _he'd_ drink and eat without throwing a raging, hissy fit."

"Raging, hissy fit?" Lucas repeated.

Brooke laughed. "No, you're right. You're more of the sulking type, aren't you, Scott? Anyway," she said, opening the box of pizza and pushing it toward him. "Eat. Now. Before it gets too cold."

"Yes, mom," he muttered obediently before he reached for a slice of pepperoni pizza. Brooke smiled.

"So what did you do while Sawyer and I were away?" she asked, feeding Sawyer some more milk.

Lucas shrugged. "Nothing much." He paused. "You?"

"I… completed a few designs. Nathan and Haley came over to the store. And oh my god, funniest thing ever," she suddenly turned to look at Lucas, her hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. "We caught Deb making out with yet another twenty-something year old. They came out of that convenience store just opposite Clothes Over Bro's – you know the one, right? – and Deb's hair was a wreck and her bra strap kept falling down her arm," Brooke giggled. "The guy must've stretched it out or something. But, oh boy, you should've seen Nathan's face – he was practically purple." The brunette suddenly leaned toward Lucas as if she were going to tell him a secret, "If you ask me, I think he's probably just jealous that his mom's getting more action than he is," she whispered confidentially, surprising a laugh out of Lucas.

Her eyes softened at the sound. "Look at you," she murmured, staring at him.

Lucas suddenly felt self-conscious. "What?"

She shrugged. "Your smile… I've missed it," Brooke told him before she promptly turned back to Sawyer again with a wide smile on her face. "We've missed Daddy's smile, haven't we, baby girl? Hmm?" Brooke continued to talk at a hundred words a minute, and Lucas let her voice settle around him like a familiar symphony.

_I want you to be happy. _

He wasn't happy, not yet. But as terrible as it all was, as ruined, sick, tortured, sad, and hopeless, he looked at the faces of his daughter and Brooke. He watched Sawyer squeal as Brooke tickled her tiny feet again, and he couldn't help but think how strangely comfortable it felt to be with them, how in spite of the ravages under the skin, so little on the surface had changed.

"Hey Brooke?" Lucas asked hesitantly, afraid to spoil serenity of the moment

The brunette glanced up at him at once, her eyebrows raised. "Mm-hm?"

He couldn't understand why exactly, but it took him a moment to work up the courage to ask, "You're staying again tonight, right?"

Surprise flitted across her face, and then her hazel eyes softened. "Of course," Brooke answered without even thinking about it, and Lucas nodded, feeling inexplicably relieved.

"Good."

o-o

"Baby girl," Brooke announced, carrying a large box of Peyton's things and keeping it on the bed next to Sawyer. "I've got a crap load of – oops," she paused. "Don't tell your daddy that I swore in front of you, all right?" She made puppy dogs eyes at Sawyer and laughed. "Of course you won't. Anyway, I've got some of your mom's stuff and I decided it's time we take a look at it together. All right?"

Smiling at her god daughter, Brooke rummaged around the cardboard box and pulled out a few things. "These," she said, looking through a stack of papers, "were your mom's sketches. She was a great artist, you know? Granted, she was also a tortured one, but your dad was kind of broody, too, so they were perfect for each other."

Sawyer smiled, as if she understood, and Brooke giggled, nuzzling her teeny tiny nose. "Yeah, I know. You aren't going to be like that, are you, because your middle name's Brooke? You'll see. We always have more fun." The brunette started looking through the box again. "Oh!" she gasped when she picked up a familiar purple dress. Tears began to prickle her eyes. "I can't believe she kept this," Brooke murmured, feeling the crinkly material.

Sawyer squealed, and Brooke nodded, turning to her. "Yeah, this was the first dress your mom bought for herself, sweetie. Or rather, _I_ bought for her…" she trailed off, remembering.

_"I think this would look good on you," Peyton suggested, smirking. _

_"I think it would look good on Aunt Lavinia."_

_"Oh, come on. It's not bad."_

_"Yes, it is."_

_"Yeah, okay. I guess it is," Peyton agreed before moving to the back of the store. She pulled out a dress of greenish Lycra. "How about this one? It would sort of go with your eyes."_

_"Too shiny," Brooke checked the price tag and frowned. "Besides, it costs more than two hundred dollars. No, thanks."_

_They continued scouring the racks. _

_"Hey," Brooke grinned mischievously, grabbing a bright red oversized plaid that was about ten inches long from waist to hem. "This is definitely the one, don't you think?" _

_Peyton snorted. "That wouldn't even cover half your ass."_

_The brunette's face was a mask of faux tragedy as she replaced the dress. "Okay, what do you think of this, then?" she asked, pulling out a striking knee length dress made of crinkly wine-colored silk. _

_"Wow," Peyton raised a brow as she surveyed it. "It's beautiful, Brooke. But I think it might be a bit too long for you."_

_"I know," Brooke smiled. "I was thinking for you, actually."_

_Peyton blinked in surprise. "What?" _

_"Do you like it?"_

_"Brooke, I already have a dress."_

_"And now you have a better one," the brunette shrugged, holding it under her friend's chin. "So go try it on."_

_"Brooke–"_

_"Now," she led the way to the fitting rooms, hiding a smile. _

_Tying her hair into a pony tail, Brooke perched on the bench and watched Peyton wrestle with the dress a little before pulling it over her head. It fell neatly and straight to her knees._

_Brooke raised a brow. "Wow," she murmured as Peyton snuck a few glances at herself. "You look beautiful, you know."_

_"Do you think?"_

_"Definitely."_

_It was rather shocking to see Peyton like this. After all, throughout her life, the blonde had always eschewed dresses, opting instead for her leather jackets and T-shirts. But Brooke didn't want to make a big deal out of it. _

_Peyton had the kind of body that girls yearned for and boys didn't notice. She was straight-down and lithe. She had no unsightly parts that stuck out. Her hips were narrow like a boy's, and her breasts were small. When the both of them had been in the full trauma of middle puberty, Brooke had wished like anything that she was Peyton. When she got teased and tortured and bra-strap snapped, she wished it even more. Sometimes even now she wished it._

_"You're so getting that dress," Brooke told her._

_Peyton frowned. "Give it up, B. Davis. I'm not made out of money."_

_"Luckily for you, I am. Think of it as… an early Christmas gift."_

_Peyton looked up at the brunette, resolute. "Brooke, no."_

_"I mean it. Come on." Brooke took the dress and marched toward the sales counter. "We'll take it," she said grandly to the saleslady and threw down her debit card._

Brooke nodded. "That was a good day," she told Sawyer with a smile. "But let me tell you, your mom was one picky chick."

Her eyes suddenly fell on an oval-shaped gift box that had the words: _For Sawyer_ scrawled on the lid. Curious, Brooke pulled it out and opened it, and what she saw inside made her gasp. From the looks of it, Peyton had left everything she'd ever wanted her daughter to have in it. An iPod with a playlist of about a hundred songs, a few photographs, and, Brooke stared in amazement, at the comic strip Peyton had drawn of her and Lucas's history together.

_First of all, you don't know me. And second of all, you don't know me._

Brooke felt her eyes water as she looked through the drawings. "See, I told you that your mom was talented," she murmured to Sawyer with a watery smile. And almost as if she sensed that the pictures were important, Sawyer reached out and touched cartoon Peyton's face. And promptly started crying.

Discarding the sketches, Brooke picked her up immediately and started rocking her gently. "I know, I know," she whispered, trying to console the crying baby. "I wish she was here, too."

When she quieted down, Brooke smoothed out the sheet in Sawyer's crib and kept her inside, being very careful not to knock her head against the edge. She was very sleepy now, rubbing her eyes with her tiny little fists and yawning often. Brooke watched the baby close her eyes; and when she was certain Sawyer was asleep, the brunette went back to the bed and started putting all of Peyton's stuff for her daughter back into the gift box again. Halfway through rearranging the sketches, Brooke suddenly caught sight of a cassette tape tucked right in the corner.

Frowning, she picked it up and started studying it, then looked over her shoulder at Sawyer one last time before she switched the light off and left the room. Brooke checked on Lucas, too, who was sprawled across his own bed, fast asleep, and made her way to the living room. She hesitantly pulled the tape out from under her arm and slid it into the VCR player before switching the TV on. The moment she pressed play, Peyton's face appeared on screen and Brooke gasped, staring at her late best friend in muffled surprise. She felt as though every nerve in her body was on alert. Peyton was here, right in front of her; and she was talking and looking, seeming to take as much from the camera as she gave to it.

"Choose wisely, okay," Peyton smiled into the screen, and Brooke felt the surge of emotion smack her like a sandbag across the head. "I got _really_ lucky with mine. My best friend is…funny. Intelligent. Creative, _beautiful_. Successful. And kind," she chuckled lightly. "She's also," Peyton went on, looking amused, "impulsive. Frustrating, and um…complicated, childish..."

Brooke laughed, listening to Peyton's motherly tone kick in. She saw such familiar things about the blonde. The way she tilted her head when she laughed. The crook of her elbows, the top of her ear poking through her long hair.

"But," Peyton paused, her voice rough with emotion, "I wouldn't have her any other way," she said, and Brooke swallowed hard, wiping her tears hastily. She forced a deep breath. "And the best part about Brooke Davis," Peyton continued, still smiling, albeit a little sadly now, "is that she always puts her friends first. So," she shrugged, "if you were in any kind of trouble, now you know who to call. I can't think of _anyone_ I'd rather have watching over me…"

Without thinking, Brooke pressed the _paus_e button and watched as the video froze with Peyton still smiling at the camera, the sunlight washing off her lose, light-colored hair. The resolution diminished , but the image was even more striking. Peyton was really here, right in front of her, and Brooke was suddenly afraid that her face would disappear. So she stared at it, hard, until all she could see was the golden green of her best friend's eyes.

o-o

Lucas woke up in the middle of the night. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and climbed out of bed. The first thing he heard was the TV, and he frowned. Was Brooke still awake? Hastily pulling a T-shirt over his head, he opened the door and walked into the living room, and sure enough, there was Brooke, sitting on the carpet, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But Lucas didn't see her, not really. What really caught his attention was the blonde hovering on the TV screen in front of him. Her face was of such loveliness and deep familiarity that Lucas, honest-to-god, thought he was dreaming her again.

"Now there's just one thing," Peyton was saying, "that I need from _you_."

And suddenly Lucas realized that this wasn't one of his visions of her, but the good bye video Peyton had made for Sawyer just days before their wedding.

_I want our child to remember me_," she'd told Lucas when they'd first argued about it. _Just in case._

But Lucas had looked her straight in the eye, and said, _our child is not going to have to _remember _you. Our child is going to _know _you. _

And he'd been wrong.

"_Please_ take very special care of your father," Peyton's voice startled him out his thoughts, and once again he found himself staring at his wife. He realized with an old feeling of sorrow that all the apparitions he'd conjured of her in his mind had not done her any justice. He was glad for the real face again, for Peyton's eyes.

"Because if I'm not around," Peyton continued, choking on her words, "he's going to need _you_ to take care of him."

"Luke?" Brooke murmured, her voice soft, and he suddenly realized that the brunette was staring at him with an expression of anguish that matched his to tee.

"So love him," Peyton was saying in the background. "Take care of him. And be _kind_ to him."

Lucas's face crumpled abruptly, and Brooke got to her feet in one swift moment and wrapped her arms around him. Her hair brushed against the side of his neck, and he closed his eyes. A new pain twisted through him, surprisingly close to his heart.

"I'm sorry, Lucas."

Everything was different now, everything was damaged; but her body still communicated with his. She meant to say, he knew, that she did understand, that she missed Peyton Sawyer with every fiber of her being too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Do we really have to go through this again?

**A/N: **I want to start off by saying, thanks for the reviews guys! All of you made my day, seriously. And I promise to take all your tips and criticism and build on it. **PrincesaKarlita411**, I'm not sure if sure Julian is going to be in this. If he is, I don't think he'll play a very big role. Not yet anyway. I'll just have to see how it goes.

Once again, I sort of updated quickly and I hope you all like it. I'm sorry if its slow-moving, and I'm sorry if it's boring, but this is just how I see the story unfolding if it had happened in reality. There's a lot more Brucas interaction in this chapter so I hope that makes you all very happy.

As always, I'm sorry for any grammatical/typing errors. They were unintentional. Oh, and on a side note, would anyone be willing to beta? *makes puppy dog eyes* lol! If so, just send me message. I'd really appreciate it!

o-o

**Chapter 3**

Brooke Davis woke up suddenly in the middle of the night and found herself sleeping on the lone couch in Lucas's living room. The digital clock sitting on the coffee table read: 3:03 AM, and she marveled at the fact that she'd made it this far through the night uninterrupted.

Her next thought was of Sawyer.

Quickly rising, Brooke checked the baby monitor and found the volume turned all the way down. Confusion and panic mingled as she pushed passed her weariness and hurried to the spare bedroom, which was now also the nursery _and_ her room.

To her surprise, Lucas was standing beside Sawyer's crib, an apprehensive but gentle expression on his face. He was so engrossed with staring at the baby he didn't even realize that she was just two feet away, by the doorway.

Brooke felt an aching empathy for him. She knew it distressed him to no end that he hadn't been able to bring himself to face Sawyer since Peyton's death, but Brooke hadn't been too worried. She knew Lucas Scott inside out, and the truth was he just needed time. Sooner or later, he'd come through, and by the looks of it, it had happened sooner than later.

Lucas pulled out a chair and sat down beside the crib. He hesitantly reached out and brushed a finger across his daughter's cheek, and Brooke's throat funneled tight when she saw the tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so so sorry."

Sawyer stirred at her father's touch, and Brooke took half a step forward in case she started crying. But she didn't. Instead, she reached out one balled fist toward him, her fingers opening one by one like a flower before it came to rest on Lucas's cheek. His tears slipped down between her small fingertips, and she pulled her hand away. Then, Brooke watched in amazement, as Sawyer put her hand back into her mouth, drinking in her father's sorrow, his regrets.

o-o

Lucas Scott stopped short at the sight that greeted him the next morning in the living room.

Sawyer was sitting in the middle of the pale-blue carpeted floor, propped comfortably against Brooke's knee, tugging at tufts of the rug with one fist. Brooke, meanwhile, was humoring her. She reached for Sawyer's toes and pulled them one by one, the pinkie last, and then ran her fingers up the length of her leg. Sawyer squealed and giggled again, leaning her head back so that she could look at Brooke upside down. "More?" Brooke asked with a teasing smile, and Sawyer slapped her hands against her thighs.

Lucas watched them from the doorway, all the while marveling at the picture the brunette made with his daughter. She looked impossibly young, with her dark hair spilling over her shoulder and her shirt untucked in the back, her bare feet just out of Sawyer's reach. She made it look so easy. Lucas remembered the nights he had to walk up and down the halls of his house with Lily because he didn't know how else to put his sister to sleep. But all Brooke had to do was smile, spread her legs out in a circular playground for Sawyer, and she had the baby crowing.

"Hey there," Brooke's voice floated toward him.

Lucas blinked at her, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Hey."

"You're up early."

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep much, I guess."

Brooke nodded as if this made perfect sense, and Lucas realized that she had probably heard him tossing in his sleep again. "How about some breakfast, huh?" she asked, scooping Sawyer into her arms and letting her god daughter lock her dimpled arms around her neck. "What would you like to have?"

"Um…toast?"

"Waffles, it is," Brooke told him with a bright smile as she kicked one of Sawyer's toys to the side. "Now," she said, walking toward him, "can you do me a favor and hold Sawyer for a second?"

Lucas's eyes widened in panic. "Brooke, I don't think–" he started, but was cut off immediately when the brunette handed over his baby girl to him with a meaningful look.

"Just two seconds," she promised before flitting toward the kitchen and leaving Lucas standing alone with Sawyer in the living room.

Swallowing hard, he cradled Sawyer stiffly, adjusting his grip on her, and then adjusting it again. This shouldn't have been so hard; after all, Lucas was no stranger to babies. He'd looked after Lily at eighteen and then later helped Brooke with Angie. But this – this was different. This little girl… this _angel _was his daughter. And he'd been hiding from her, and avoiding her, and denying her, and it shamed him to no end that he hadn't even done as much as stand by her crib when she'd needed him most.

When _he_ had needed _her_ most.

Lucas gently touched a lock of her blonde hair which reminded him so much of Peyton in all her former curly-haired glory. _This_ was what he had been really trying to avoid – the memories. But he was beginning to realize that the pain was part and parcel of his life now, that no matter how hard he tried, they still appeared unbidden at the most unusual of times. Peyton's absence was acute, but her presence was even more so.

Lucas moved Sawyer's head, trying to get comfortable when Sawyer suddenly burst out into loud, wailing sobs. "Brooke!" Lucas called out anxiously, and the brunette appeared at his side almost immediately, holding her arms out.

"I don't know what I did wrong," he admitted as he watched Brooke expertly rock Sawyer back into the silence. The guilt was overwhelming.

"You did fine," Brooke assured him gently, and the irony of the situation wasn't lost on Lucas. _Brooke Davis _was teaching _him_ about babies.

She smiled as if she knew what he was thinking (and she almost always did) before she ushered him into kitchen. "Come on, let's eat. I'm starving!"

Lucas frowned. "You're done already?"

"I'm fast like that."

"But are you eating, too?" he asked, following her. "I thought you were supposed to be at the store at this tim–" The words died on his lips the moment he saw the spread that lay await for him in the kitchen. As promised, Brooke had made waffles for breakfast (and not the frozen stuff, either, but from scratch) along with freshly-squeezed orange juice and corned beef hash. Lucas hovered at the edge of the speckled Formica table, looking at all the food. "When did you get up to do all of this?" he asked, amazed.

Brooke shrugged. "About an hour ago, I think," she said, arranging the table mats and then putting Sawyer in her portable crib. "I got the day off from work today so I decided, why not have breakfast together? It's been awhile since we've done that."

Lucas just stared at her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Nothing, I just…" He shook his head. "This actually looks edible."

Brooke huffed, her hands resting on her hips in the most defiant image her 5 ft 5 frame could muster.

"I'll have you _know_, Mr. I'm-too-much-of-an-unappreciative-ass-to-say-thank-you, that I actually learnt how to cook during my time in New York, thank you very much."

"Oh really?" He forced himself not to laugh at how personally she was taking his teasing. He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I thought you were too busy being a tabloid darling," he smirked.

"Not even!" Brooke squealed, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "I kind of had my hands full running a company. And besides, half of what they wrote about me wasn't even true."

"Really?" Lucas asked curiously, lifting a brow. "Which half _was _true?"

Brooke flushed pink and looked back down at the Sawyer. "Rude, isn't he?"

Lucas turned his head to look at his daughter as well. She had stopped shaking her rattle momentarily and was staring at them, looking almost speculative. "No," Lucas said, grinning, "See, she wants to know too."

"The two of you are awful," Brooke pouted playfully. "She really _is_ your daughter, Luke. A chip off the old block." She twirled away from him and started cleaning the counter. Lucas laughed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Sawyer's sorry too. Look," she turned around and watched him take a bite off his waffle. "See?" he said after audibly swallowing. "Delicious!"

"Mm-hm." She gave him a dry look, making him laugh once again, before joining him at the table. Lucas felt a strange giddiness rising in his chest, and the familiar ache he'd boxed in for weeks momentarily disappeared. The fleeting feeling of content that washed over him wasn't much, maybe, but it felt like everything.

o-o

Brooke took a bite of her waffle, too, enjoying the good humored expression on his face. It might've been a little strained, maybe, but it was genuine. And he was finally healing now. His colors were coming back. The sun was turning his skin the syrupy orange-tan color that only Lucas turned, lighting up the gold in his hair, putting the sea-green back into the blue of his eyes. All the burgeoning possibility in him was practically blinding. _But he doesn't even know_, Brooke thought with a small smile. She could tell by his posture that he had no idea. She could tell by the small crease in his forehead.

Peyton would've been proud.

"So I was thinking," Brooke began, taking a sip of her orange juice, "that it's time I did some grocery shopping."

"Yeah. The fridge is pretty empty," Lucas agreed.

"That, my friend, would be an understatement. _So_,can you look after Sawyer for about a half hour, do you think?"

Lucas choked on his orange juice. "Brooke, I–"

"–should be fine. Thanks, Luke," she smiled brightly. "You're the best."

He frowned, shaking his head. "But I…I don't know how to…" he trailed off, unable to voice his greatest fear out loud.

But Brooke saw right through him, and her expression softened. "You won't hurt her, Lucas," she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "_That_ I'm sure of."

"But what if I do?"

"And what if you don't?" Brooke countered. "What if you have the greatest time of your life today? Sawyer needs you, you know. Almost as much as you need her. Besides," she shrugged, "I'm just a phone call away. One message from you, and I'll come running down like Superman," she grinned, and Lucas couldn't help but laugh.

Smiling, Brooke squeezed his hand one last time before she stood up and grabbed her hand bag. "I won't be long, I promise."

She reached for the door knob, but Lucas's voice stopped her. "Brooke?"

"Mm-hm?"

"What do I have to do with her?"

The brunette turned around slowly, poised on the edge of the doorway. There was a thoughtful expression on her features as she contemplated his question, but then she just shrugged and said, "Love her."

Lucas met her gaze squarely and held it before he finally nodded. "Okay."

o-o

Lucas watched the brunette leave with a heavy sigh. Subtlety had never been one of her better traits. Brooke Davis was stubborn, if not anything; and it was about the only thing that was predictable about her. The bottom line was that when _she_ decided it was time he looked after his daughter, it really _was_ time he looked after his daughter. And God knew he needed to.

Picking Sawyer up, Lucas looked her straight in the eye. "So what do you want to do?" he asked. Her eyes were the same color blue as his, he realized.

Sawyer merely gurgled in response, and Lucas chuckled. "Fine. We'll go outside, then. See the world a little bit…"

Strapping her in her carrier, Lucas took his daughter outside. The moment he stepped out onto the front doorstep and breathed in the fresh air, he felt a little better – which was a usual occurrence these days. He'd recently begun spending his time outdoors, and he'd started to see the beauty in this place again. Not beauty in the beautiful things, necessarily, but beauty in the ordinary things, like the row of telephone poles along his street and the way the sun glinted off the draping cables. He appreciated the way the trees arched over the sidewalks, and how quickly the weeds grew through the cracks in the pavement. He admired the dahlias Peyton had planted in front of the house.

Lucas plucked one and handed it to Sawyer. "These used to be your mom's favorite," he told her.

Sawyer stared at it for a moment before she reached out and grabbed at a petal. Lucas smiled, albeit a little sadly. "Yeah, she used to do that too."

He suddenly heard a gate swing open and looked up to see Mrs. Cohen, his neighbor, strolling down the street. She waved when their eyes met, and Lucas saw the look he saw everywhere. Mrs. Cohen was mindful of his tragedy. She knew, just as everyone else knew. She didn't want to confront the fact because she knew it without having been told directly. She wanted to look and seem the right way in respect to Lucas's status. Lucas turned his eyes, with some relief, to Sawyer, who just wanted to play with the dahlias.

She started crying a good half an hour into their little adventure, and Lucas's first instinct was to call Brooke; he didn't know how else handle the situation. But then he remembered that today was supposed to be about Sawyer and him. He had done such a bad job of fathering her in the beginning, the last thing he wanted to do was screw it up now. So he took a deep breath and carried Sawyer inside himself with the idea that she might be hungry.

Lucas opened the cabinets in the kitchen one by one, looking for the formula he had sometimes seen Brooke use. He finally found the Enfamil, which was a powdered mix. He knew that something should be sterilized, but there wasn't enough time for that now. Sawyer was beginning to wail, and without even checking on her, Lucas put the water up to boil and found three empty plastic bottles that he assumed were clean. Running a hand through his hair anxiously, he read the back of the Enfamil bucket. One scoop for every two ounces. Surely he could find a measuring cup in this kitchen.

He looked under the sink and over the refrigerator. Finally, under a collection of spatulas and slotted spoons he found one. Lucas tapped his foot impatiently, willing the teakettle to whistle. When it did he poured eight ounces of water into each bottle and added four scoops of power. He didn't know that a baby Sawyer's age couldn't finish an eight-ounce bottle in one sitting. All that Lucas cared about was getting Sawyer fed, getting Sawyer to sleep, and then slumping down onto the couch himself.

He stashed two bottles in the refrigerator and took the third to Sawyer. Unbuckling her from her carrier, he carried the baby to the living room and fed her gently. At first, she was quiet and it looked like she was about to sleep. But then her glazed eyes came into focus and her face contorted, and she began crying again. No amount of milk would make her stop.

"Jesus Christ," Lucas muttered, picking Sawyer up and starting to walk. He bounced her on his shoulder as he moved. He sang Motown. He twirled her around and around, very fast, but Sawyer would not stop crying. Lucas couldn't get away from the sound. It pounded behind his eyes, over his ears, and he wondered if Brooke had ever faced the same problem. Sure, he'd heard his daughter cry once in awhile in the past few weeks but this – this was _horrible_.

He was less than two seconds away from succumbing and calling Brooke when his eyes suddenly fell on the vacuum cleaner that was stashed in the front hall closet, and he had a sudden brain storm. Gently leaving Sawyer on the couch in next of stuffed cushions, he pulled out the appliance and set it over the threshold of the living room before he flipped the switch on. The whir of the motor immediately drowned out the choked cries of Sawyer's screams just like he had hoped it would, and finally, _finally _she quieted down. Breathing in a deep sigh of relief, Lucas pulled the vacuum away. It might've worked because the white noise had distracted Sawyer, but Lucas had a feeling that it was probably genetic. He could remember coming home from his long book tours and falling asleep to the hum of the vacuum as Peyton cleaned the house.

He gently carried Sawyer to her crib, being very careful not to jostle her, and adjusted her pillows before he laid her down inside. She stirred slightly, stretching her small arms, but didn't wake up. Lucas's shoulders throbbed with relief, and he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him. He had done it. He really had. He could conquer the world. He could do big things.

And he was getting ahead of himself.

Grinning to himself, he took a few of Sawyer's toys from out of her crib and kept them on the table. Her rattle, her building blocks, and – Lucas frowned as he studied it – a key ring that held two laminated eight-by-ten photographs. The first was a picture of himself giving his half smile, his mind a million miles away. And the second was of Peyton, fairly recent, sitting at an outdoor café in town. She might've been pregnant, and the distant look in her eyes told Lucas that she might've even been sketching when this picture was taken. But that wasn't what surprised him.

What surprised him was that on the back, written in Brooke's untidy scrawl, was the word, _Mama_.

o-o

Sometimes Brooke sang Sawyer to sleep. It didn't seem to matter what she sang – gospel or pop, Michael Jackson or the All American rejects. She usually skipped the lullabies, because she figured Sawyer would hear those from everyone else.

But it wasn't working this time. No matter how much she sang, Sawyer still wailed, and Brooke wondered if now that she'd had a feel of what it was like with her father, she wanted him back again. Brooke wouldn't have held it against her.

She wondered if she should call Lucas, and almost as if her thoughts had conjured him, she found him standing in the doorway, his hair flattened on one side of his head. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm so sorry," Brooke immediately apologized. "Did she wake you up?"

"No. I couldn't really sleep either way." He held his arms out toward Brooke. "Do you want me to help you?"

That made her pause. "Really?"

"Really." He met her gaze squarely and held it.

Smiling slightly, she handed Sawyer over to him and then promptly had a heart attack when Lucas picked the baby up and hung her upside down from his shoulders, grasping just her feet.

"Lucas!" Brooke yelped, instinctively reaching out for Sawyer. "Are you crazy?"

But Lucas just smiled, which further illustrated her view that he _was_ crazy. "Relax. See, she's even stopped crying."

"Yeah, because her brain's going to mush!"

Lucas ignored her. "All of a sudden, she's thrown into a world where nothing seems familiar," he explained, righting Sawyer again. "Sort of like us, really."

Brooke frowned, and then crossed her arms across her chest. "Well, all I can say is that your methods are certainly unorthodox, Scott."

Lucas only smirked in response. But after much playing, and carrying, and singing, the both of them finally managed to put Sawyer to sleep. The silence was like music to their ears.

"You're doing such a great job with her, Luke," Brooke finally murmured some minutes or maybe hours later. The both of them were lying together on the bed with the baby in the middle. "I think Peyton would've very proud of you."

Lucas turned to face her, and Brooke saw the familiar pain in his expression, but it was more complicated now. "I still miss her, Brooke. It still hurts, and I just…" he sighed. "I'm just so _tired_." The weariness in his voice was heart-rending. "When is it gonna get easier?"

"I don't know," Brooke swallowed hard. "I just – I don't know. I wish I could give you a date on the calendar to cross, Luke, but I can't. All I know is that it's only going to get better from now on. You've already faced the worst, you know? And one day," she absently picked at a weave in the blanket, "one day you're going to wake up, and think of Peyton, and feel _good_. Remembering her will make you happy."

Lucas contemplated her words. "Have you reached that stage yet?" he asked.

"I'm getting there slowly, I think. I mean, I look at Sawyer now and I see so much of Peyton in her and…it doesn't really hurt anymore. I see so much of _you_ in her, too, and I think, this little girl is a mixture of the two people I love most of the world, and she's going to be amazing. "

Brooke could tell by his face that he felt humbled by her words. "I see her," Lucas said suddenly. "Peyton," he explained when he saw the confusion flit across the brunette's face.

Brooke felt her body freeze in a strange position. "Really?" she asked, and her voice was barely above a whisper. "What does she say?"

Lucas shrugged. "She tells me to cut you some slack."

Tense as she was, Brooke heard herself let out a laugh. "Damn right you better," she smiled. Lucas smiled, too, but Brooke could tell that his mind was elsewhere. Fluffing her pillow, she turned on her side so that she could look at him better. "What does she say about Sawyer?" she asked gently, and Brooke knew that she'd hit the nail on the head when Lucas breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.

"She asked me to look after her. She asked me show her love."

"Well, I think you've done a pretty job."

"Yeah, _today_," Lucas's eyes flew open. "But what about for the past four weeks, Brooke? I haven't done jack shit, and Sawyer – Sawyer deserves so much better."

Brooke studied him for a moment. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Luke. You've faced the worst kind of trauma, and it's understandable that you'd withdraw. But you're here now, and that's all that matters. So if you ask me, I'd say, just forget about this last month and concentrate on the present. Because after all," she shrugged, keeping her face serious, "yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. And that's why it is called the present."

Lucas raised a brow at her, and then frowned. "I've heard that somewhere before."

"_Kung Fu Panda_," Brooke supplied with a smug smile, and Lucas couldn't help but laugh. "What? You quote Dante, writer boy, and I quote Oogway. Not all of us can read books like we breathe oxygen," she huffed.

Lucas smiled. "Fair enough," he agreed.

"You have to admit. That was pretty sleek of me."

"Brooke Davis, you're one of the sleekest people I know."

Brooke's smile widened. "Why, thank you, Lucas Scott. You're not so bad yourself." She pulled the blanket up to cover her body better and reached for the table lamp. "Do you mind?" she asked Lucas.

He shook his head and turned to his side, too. "No, not at all."

Brooke flipped the switch off and the room was enveloped in darkness.

"Hey, Brooke?" Lucas said before she could close her eyes.

"Mm-hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. For being here for Sawyer and me. For helping me out. I…" he paused. "I really don't know what I would've done without you."

He sounded so genuine and grateful Brooke felt her throat funnel tight. She remembered the last time he'd been lost and he had admitted to something like this.

_Even when I don't tell you, it means a lot to me to know that you're here. It means…everything._

Brooke reached across the bed and held his hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're more than welcome, Lucas."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own OTH. In addition, the ideas for some of the scenes in this chapter were taken from other fanfics. I love being inspired, and you guys are often the source of that!

**A/N: **Sorry for being a little late, but here it is! A few important things happen in this chapter, but I guess, it's mostly a filler. I still hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews guys! I absolutely love all of you! I'm sorry if there are any typos/grammatical errors in this. They were unintentional. Anyone want to beta? *smiles sweetly* So anyway I'll stop rambling now and let you read in the peace. Please review!

o-o

**Chapter 4**

Lucas whirled Sawyer around over his head and then hung her from her feet – she loved that kind of thing – as Brooke watched from a corner, her mouth turned down.

"She's going to puke on you, you know," the brunette warned him. "She just drank."

But Sawyer kept her eyes open, watching her world spin. When Lucas finally righted the baby and cradled her, Sawyer turned her gaze up and stared directly at him. Then a slow smile spread across her face, blushing into her cheeks and straightening her little shoulders.

"Look, Brooke! Isn't that her first real smile?"

"Oh my god, yes!" Brooke cried, literally jumping up and down in her excitement. She started clapping her hands enthusiastically. "That's just amazing!" She stared at Lucas in awe, then left the room to go find Sawyer's baby book, so that she could record the date.

o-o

Brooke walked into the living room, carrying Sawyer, and found Lucas sitting on the couch with his lap top switched on. His face was stubbly and relaxed in a way it hadn't been for months.

"Whatcha doing?" Brooke asked with a charming smile as she bounced forward. She sat down next to him with Sawyer on her lap.

"Writing."

Brooke's heart warmed. It had been so long since she'd heard him say that. "A new novel?"

Lucas shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not really sure, to be honest."

"Can I read what you have so far?" She peeked over his shoulder, but he pulled his laptop away.

"Not yet."

"What? Why not?" Brooke whined, pouting in mock disappointment.

Lucas laughed at her melodramatic antics. "Because it's not ready yet."

"But you let me read parts of your first book while you were still writing it."

"We were dating then," he pointed out.

Brooke rolled her eyes. "So advance copies are girlfriend-exclusive?"

"It would appear so."

The both of them fell silent for a moment. Then Sawyer suddenly clapped her hands with a soft giggle, and Lucas reached out to tickle her neck.

"…Hey, Lucas?"

"Yeah, Brooke?"

"Wanna date?"

"You can't read it yet, Brooke."

Brooke made a face at him. "You suck," she muttered, then pulled Sawyer away from her lap and onto the couch. "Your father's a downright meany, isn't he, baby girl?" she squeezed her god daughter's dimpled elbows. Lucas only smiled in response. "I think we should ignore him for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

Sawyer stared at Brooke unblinkingly, and Lucas's smile turned smug. "That's a no if I've ever heard one. She's my girl, you see."

Brooke shrugged. "All in good time," she said. Grinning at him, the brunette pulled out two photographs from underneath the magazines on the table and spread them out in front of Sawyer's chubby feet; they were laminated so that her saliva wouldn't stain the surfaces. "All right, sweetheart. You know the drill," Brooke said, adjusting Sawyer a little. She pointed to the picture of Lucas. "Daddy," she said, and the baby turned toward her voice. "Aye," she said, drooling.

"Close enough," Brooke smiled, pinching Sawyer's cheeks.

Lucas watched her carefully. "I never thanked you for that," he murmured.

"Thanked me for what?"

"Showing those pictures of Peyton to her." He made a move to take one of the photographs and hit his arm against the armrest in the process. "Shit," he swore, and Brooke poked him with an elbow.

"Language," she reprimanded, a seed of a laugh in her voice. "That is _not_ the first word I want to hear from your daughter, mister."

Lucas nodded, wincing. "I know."

Brooke picked up the portrait of Peyton next; this always hurt a little. "This is your mommy," she told Sawyer, running her finger tips over Peyton's delicate features. "Mommy."

There was a moment of silence. Then–

"Muh," Sawyer said.

"Oh my god!" Brooke turned to Lucas at once, her mouth wide. "You heard that, didn't you? Muh?"

Lucas nodded. "It might've been gas, though."

Brooke glared at him playfully before she scooped Sawyer into her arms and kissed the folds of her neck. "You, my love, are a genius. Don't listen to your broody old father here. He's just jealous because he didn't start talking until he turned five or something."

"I wasn't that bad, was I?" Lucas paused in mock thought, and Brooke laughed, ruffling his hair.

"It's okay, Luke. We still love you for who you are."

"Well, _that's_ a relief."

o-o

They were trying to get Sawyer to smile at the camera but no matter how hard they tried, the baby wouldn't budge. Her face still stayed stubbornly set in a permanent scowl.

"I guess she's like her mother that way," Brooke muttered, making Lucas laugh.

Brooke then had the idea of making a sock puppet. She drew eyes on top of a white sock and a long forked tongue. "Keep Sawyer at the end of the couch," she meanwhile directed Lucas for the hundredth time. "That way she's not staring at the camera directly."

"Um, isn't that kind of the point of the picture?"

"Nope."

"Why not?" Lucas frowned.

"Because it's a candid shot."

"But you're posing her," Lucas felt the need to remind the brunette.

"Yeah, but we'll be the only two people who know that," she explained as though the answer should have been obvious. "Anyway, come on. Chop, chop, Scott. We don't have all day."

Sighing, Lucas did as he was told.

Brooke then stood behind Lucas who was ready with the camera in his hands. She hissed and made rattlesnake sounds, pretending to bite Lucas's ears. "I'm Lucas Scott, and I brood a lot," she said in her snake-y voice.

Lucas gave her a look. "Why am I a snake?"

But Brooke ignored him, keeping her attention on Sawyer. "I think it's fun to sit around in my room and squint at the walls."

"What?"

"I like the Cure…"

"Oh, for God's sake! Why does everyone in the world think that?" He turned to look at his daughter. "Sawyer, sweetheart, I don't like the Cure."

"I'm lying…" Brooke continued, stifling a laugh.

"Who's lying?" Lucas countered sourly.

Brooke abruptly stopped hissing and her hazel eyes went wide. "Oh my god, Lucas! She's smiling again!" she cried out so loud Lucas jumped in surprise. He turned around to look at Sawyer and sure enough, she was.

"Take the picture, Luke!"

"Woman, that's my arm you're cutting off my blood circulation to."

"Oh. Sorry."

Brooke then pinched Lucas's cheek with her sock hand just for the hell of it, and Sawyer's smile widened. She giggled again, and Lucas snapped the picture, grinning, so that at least here, his daughter would never grow up.

o-o

Lucas felt as though he had stepped onto a different planet when he entered the living room.

Filling the parlor was a tumbled clutter of educational toys, a Porta-Crib, a playpen, a baby swing. A big green quilt with a dinosaur head sewn on in to its corner was spread across the floor. A panda mobile replaced the trailing spider plant that hung over the coffee table. And in the middle of it all was Brooke Davis with her hair tied up in a ponytail and a sheepish expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out the moment she saw him. Lucas just stared at her, and then suddenly she started talking, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "I went shopping with Sawyer, you see. It was supposed to be a short trip, I swear! Fifteen minutes tops. But there was this wonderful store in Newton, and thenI _had_ to go to F.O.A Schwarz. The panorama of toys, Luke – god, even _I_ went crazy. It wasn't this bad with Angie even, let me tell you that much. Sawyer didn't cry the whole time, of course. Really rose to the occasion, which makes think that she's going to be one heck of a shopaholic when she grows up. Oh, hey, would like some lemonade?"

"Sure," Lucas said, biting back a smile. Six years later, and following her conversation still made him laugh. It reminded him of a pet rabbit he'd had once that he tried to take for a walk on a leash.

"I also brought over some of the stuff I got for Angie a few months ago, I hope you don't mind," Brooke continued as they headed into the kitchen. "They were just lying around at home and I didn't know what else to do with them. They're in perfect condition, don't worry; and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to put them to good use again, you know? You might want to add a bit of sugar to that, by the way," she told Lucas when she handed him his glass of lemonade.

He took a sip and shrugged. "It tastes fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You're just saying that to be nice."

Lucas laughed. "Trust me, I'm not," he said. He took a second sip. "This is good, Brooke. You're underestimating yourself."

She shook her head. "I once set the oven on fire cooking a TV dinner. I didn't take it out of the box. Drinks and juices are my whole repertoire."

"And breakfast, too," he reminded her. "Don't forget that."

"Right," Brooke grinned. "Anyway, Sawyer is in the nursery if you want to say hi," she called over her shoulder as she headed outside. "I'll be there in two minutes."

Draining his glass in one go, Lucas kept it in the sink and then made his way to the nursery. He was not alone, though. Peyton was standing by Sawyer's crib, staring at the baby greedily, too, trying to take in all the changes she'd missed. "Hey," he said softly, and the blonde glanced up at once, a wide smile splitting her face. It felt so good to see her again, even for a little while.

"Hey yourself."

Lucas drew closer. "I didn't think you'd be here."

Peyton shrugged. "I wanted to see Sawyer again," she gestured toward their daughter who was fast asleep. "She's grown up so much, Luke."

He nodded. "She looks just like you. She has your hair."

"And _your_ eyes," Peyton smiled up at him.

"So I've heard," Lucas agreed, moving over to stand by her side. Both of them stared at each for a long moment, drinking each other in, before Peyton finally broke the silence.

"I wanted to see you, too, Lucas," she admitted, reaching out to hold his hand. "How are you doing?"

"I'm…surviving."

"You look better," Peyton observed.

Lucas's lips turned up in a half smile. "Yeah, Brooke seems to have that effect on people."

Peyton grinned, and her eyes twinkled in amusement. "I'm glad."

"How about you? How are _you _doing?"

"All right, I guess. Just partying it up on the angelic plane."

Lucas raised a brow. "Are you serious?"

"As death," the blonde teased, but Lucas winced at her choice of words.

"That's not funny."

She sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry."

Lucas studied their intertwined hands for a long time before he spoke up again. "Hey Peyton?"

"Mmm?"

"When you died…did you feel any pain?"

Peyton's expression softened. "No. Not at all. It was like falling asleep, only easier."

"Lucas!" Brooke's voice interrupted.

Lucas sighed. "Yeah?" he called back, feeling a little irritated in spite of himself.

"Do you want to go outside for a walk? It's a beautiful day, you know."

"Maybe later!"

Peyton frowned at him. "You should go, Luke."

"But…" he paused. "I want to spend some time with you."

"You're not _with_ me, Luke," Peyton sighed. "You're alone."

"Lucas?" Brooke peeked into the nursery, then her whole body appeared. "Are you…all right?"

"I'm fine."

The brunette studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, then. How about that walk I was telling you about? We can strap Sawyer in her pram, and maybe even take a picnic or something."

"It's a little too late for that, isn't it?"

"It's not even six!" The excitement in her voice was catching, but Lucas wasn't in the mood.

"Another time, maybe. I don't really want Sawyer to be out when it's dark," he shrugged, which _was_ the truth.

But the moment he saw Brooke's face fall, however, he felt guilty. Worse than guilty, even. She'd done so much for him, given up so much for him, and this was how he repaid her.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Peyton shoot him a disapproving look. The message in her eyes was clear: he was, without a doubt, the biggest jerk ever to grace this planet, and he couldn't say he disagreed.

"How about we just camp outside for today," Lucas suggested in a quick attempt to redeem himself. "And take that walk tomorrow?"

Brooke tilted her head, considering the idea, and her face lit up again. "That'd be nice," she decided, slipping her hand through his without thinking and turning toward the door. "C'mon, Broody, if we hurry up we might be able to catch the sunset."

"Broody," Lucas repeated, pausing. He forgot about Peyton for a moment.

Brooke halted too, untangling her fingers from his and letting her arm fall back at her side. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly, turning back to look at him. "I just…"

"No," Lucas said, feeling a strange giddiness rising in his chest. "Don't be. It's just been so long."

"It has," Brooke agreed. Her lips curled upwards in a slow smirk. "But the nickname still fits."

Lucas scoffed. "It does not."

"Oh yeah?" Brooke raised a brow. She scrunched up her face and lowered her voice in an absolutely terrible impersonation of him. "Brooke, don't you think it's a bit too late to be outside? Somebody might kidnap you. God, Brooke, we're old people now. We don't…"

Peyton laughed in the corner.

Lucas growled and grabbed the brunette's hand again, tugging her along behind him as he headed out of the nursery. "You know what, let's go get Sawyer's carrier," he said. "We'll take a walk and sit on the riverbank. We'll stay till midnight if we have to."

Brooke's laugh was delicious and wicked and utterly delighted. And as they crossed the living room together, Lucas saw Peyton smiling at him, giving him the thumbs up.

o-o

However badly Lucas had wanted to spend time with Peyton, he was glad he'd accompanied Brooke and Sawyer on this outing. They'd started talking about life in general, Brooke's new fashion line, the possibility of him writing a new book, and then for reasons neither one of them could remember, the conversation steered in the direction of the angel sitting beside them

"But you," Brooke said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. "You've got Sawyer."

"I've got Sawyer," Lucas echoed, smiling fondly. "She's pretty amazing."

"The best."

"And she's a pretty attractive kid, too, isn't she? I mean, on the average, I don't think babies are quite as good-looking. Is that a pretentious thing to say?"

Brooke laughed. "Not if you're her father."

"But she's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Luke, she's gonna be a real heartbreaker. Those eyes are something else."

"She's not dating until she's thirty, though," Lucas told her in a matter-of-fact tone, and Brooke snorted. "What?" Lucas asked defensively. "She's not. At least not until she turns eighteen at the very least."

"Oh dear god, Lucas, you _are_ an old man."

Lucas grinned. "Come on, you've got to admit I'm right. I mean, what if she turns into…?"

"Me?" Brooke suggested brightly.

Lucas turned his gaze directly toward her, and the humor in his expression suddenly disappeared. "If Sawyer turns out even remotely like you, I'll know for sure that I did something right."

Brooke's breath hitched, and tears prickled her eyes. "Luke, I…" She paused, taking a moment to compose herself. Then she shot him a winning smile. "I'll keep that in mind. Does that mean I get to teach her how to take tequila shots?"

"Oh, we're talking about high school you," Lucas said flippantly, and the teasing look in his eyes reappeared. "Well, if Sawyer turns out like that, I'm locking her in a closet."

"You once said that high school me was brave," Brooke reminded him with a pout.

"I did," Lucas admitted. "But high school you also got drunk and had sex in strangers' Jacuzzis."

"Only twice."

"Yeah, and…" Lucas frowned. "Hey! Who was the other guy?"

"Don't even worry about it," Brooke laughed.

Lucas started mumbling something to himself, and Brooke reached out to slap him lightly on the arm. She told him to get over himself, and he finally did.

"I never asked you," Lucas turned to her suddenly. "How did things work out with Julian?"

Brooke made a face. "It didn't. After the whole Missy fiasco, both of us decided to take some time off. For God knows how long." Without warning, she turned to glare at the blonde playfully. "By the way, I blame this all on _you_, Cupid."

Lucas laughed. "Guilty as charged," he said. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Next time you run your surprises by me, Scott."

"Wouldn't actually be a surprise then, would it?"

"Oh, hush!"

Lucas grinned.

There was a moment of silence, then Brooke spoke up again. "He asked me to go to L.A with him, you know. Julian."

Lucas nodded. "Yeah, I heard."

"Wouldn't that have been funny?" she picked at the hem of her skirt, chuckling. "I mean, first Peyton and you head off to Las Vegas. Then Julian and I take our own little trip, the footnotes of the Lucas&Peyton love story."

She said it with such ease and conviction that Lucas almost missed it.

"_What_?" He turned around to face her so fast he was almost sure he'd sprained his neck.

"What, what?" Oblivious to his reaction, Brooke reached over to adjust Sawyer's blanket and take the milk bottle from Lucas's hands. He was just too stunned to even try to stop her.

"What'd you just say?" he asked again.

Brooke gave him a weird look before deciding to humor him. Tilting her head in her classic 'thinking Brooke Davis' fashion, she thought back to their conversation. "What? The footnote thing?" His horrified look sent her into a fit of giggles. "Oh, Lucas, relax. I'm totally over it."

Lucas Scott, for all his metaphorical stagger and tact, could do nothing but squint.

"Dude…seriously, it's _okay_."

"Tell me you're joking."

She frowned at him. "I'm…not?"

Lucas stared at her in disbelief. "Brooke, seriously? After everything?" he demanded. Here was the intensity that scared most people off.

But the brunette just laughed it off. "Luke, you are getting way too worked up over this," she smiled at him. "You and I both know that we were just a road block in your path to find true love with Peyton." He tensed beside her, but she didn't seem to notice. "I made peace with it way back in high school. It's okay, really."

"Stop saying that," Lucas snapped.

"Saying what?" Brooke now looked at him in surprise.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn't know why this was getting to him so much, but hearing her say that, that their relationship meant _nothing_? It was almost sacrilegious.

"Brooke, I don't know who's been feeding you this crap, but it needs to stop. Like now."

The look of confusion on her face became more pronounced.

"You weren't just a footnote," he told her, his blue eyes penetrating.

"But–"

"You weren't," he said again. His tone was final, and any protest died on her lips.

She tried to come up with a new line of argument. But at that very moment, Sawyer began crying and both Lucas and Brooke startled at the sound. Brooke got up at once and picked her up. "I think she's still hungry," she told him, looking down at the empty milk bottle. "Maybe we should go home?"

"Yeah," Lucas nodded, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. He was hesitant to leave this conversation, strained and foreign as it was. But he was also relieved to be back in their regular world.

He stood up and started picking their stuff up. "Come on, let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own One Tree - do we really need to do this? In addition, some of the scenes in this chapter were inspired by some other fics on this site.

**A/N: **Okay, I realize that this chapter is long overdue, and I'm sorry. I've been extremely busy – I just started my first job and let me tell you, it's a lot of work. So if updates don't come as fast as they should I apologize in advance and hope all of you will forgive me. That being said, I want to thank everyone who reviewed this fic! You guys make my day, seriously. And I'd also like to thank _dianehermans_ for repeatedly sending me PMs about updating. I'm sorry for not replying – like I said, I've been busy. But you definitely played a role in getting this next chapter up so thanks.

I personally don't think this chapter is very good. It didn't come out as well as I'd hoped, but here it is and I hope I haven't disappointed any of you. I apologize for any typos/grammatical mistakes – and like I've said before, if anyone would like to beta, I'd really appreciate it. Lol! Hopefully, I'll update again sooner. I've got parts of the next chapter written out so we'll see how it goes.

And other than that, I'll stop rambling now and let you guys read! Hope you guys enjoy it – and like always, please review! There's nothing I'd love more.

x-x

**Chapter 5**

During the week that followed, Brooke had lots of time to regret her last conversation with Lucas.

It had changed the mood between them. Of course it had. The ease had vanished. They were suddenly considerate and polite, and she hated that.

Tensions of all sorts had risen, to say the least. She felt self-conscious about walking out of her room in her bathrobe, for instance, even though it was what she had done every morning for the past month and a half. She averted her eyes from Lucas's bare chest, even though she'd seen him like that plenty of times before. And while she'd braided her hair one afternoon, she had looked over to see him looking, and they'd both instantly cast their eyes down.

Brooke was usually good at stomping out tension. It was a special talent of hers. She could march around boldly and crush it underfoot, not paying it any mind. But this time, it was tricky. This time, it wound its stalks around her ankles and held her fast.

"Look," Lucas finally broke the tensed silence one morning after breakfast, "Can we just…talk?"

Lucas had a deep love for imagery and symbolism, but it wouldn't have only been the author in him who felt like every unspoken conversation between Brooke and himself had been swept under the rug, and that after seven long days, it had honestly come to the point where you couldn't even walk around the house without fear of tripping. He felt regretful, too, of course. But along with the regret, he was also beginning to feel impatience. For how much longer could this last?

There was a slight tightening of the brunette's shoulders, but her voice was admirably cheerful when she asked, "About what?"

"About what we said to each other the other day."

"Which was…what?" Brooke paused in thought. Mock thought, Lucas noticed.

"Brooke," he sighed, suddenly weary of the whole situation, "I'm trying here."

And that was all it took for her body to finally slump in defeat. She slowly turned around to face him and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter. For some bizarre reason, it seemed more protective a stance than defensive.

Ever the gentlemen, Lucas waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, he continued. "You seem upset," he started after a moment, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. Wasn't this how he'd started their conversation end of junior year about _Peyton's stuff_? "You still do."

"Not upset. Just confused."

"About what? The footnote thing?"

"Among other things," Brooke met his squarely and held it. "I just – I can't understand a few things. You've always loved Peyton, Luke."

"True."

"Even when we were together."

"_That_," Lucas shook his head, disagreeing, "is not true."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"_Yes_. It is. We were just a source of high school drama, and you were in denial."

"I was in _denial_?" Lucas repeated. Then he stood up abruptly, making Brooke jump in surprise. Raking a hand through his blonde hair, he started pacing the kitchen, agitated.

"Why are so angry?" Brooke asked hesitantly. "I'm only trying to prove a point here."

"Which is _what_? That I can't use my brain?" he asked, and then chuckled bitterly. "Jesus Christ. What is it with this godforsaken town and their obsession with telling me how I feel? I pine for you, I secretly love Peyton; I marry Lindsey—it's secretly Peyton whom I want."

"Because that's what the reality is. It took us a while, of course, but both Lindsey and I finally came to accept it over time."

Lucas closed his eyes and counted to ten before he replied, still stunned over what she was saying. This was beyond ridiculous. "I fought for you," he finally managed to find his voice. "I pined for you for almost an entire year. _Why_ would I do that if you were nothing more to me than a viable second choice? Huh, Brooke? Rationalize that with your ridiculous logic."

To no one's surprise, she didn't. It was easier to just ignore the facts.

"Look...that doesn't matter right now. We were young and immature," Brooke finally supplied, the words coming out slow as though she was trying to figure out her next line of defense. "And anyway, you were always saving Peyton."

"Because _someone_ had to!"

"You've always been tied to her, Luke. Then, and even now. That's why you left Lindsey–"

"I didn't leave Lindsey, Brooke. _She_ left _me_," he retorted; then he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he spoke again. "And if I recall correctly, so did you."

Brooke shook her head, her hazel eyes bright with tears. "Only because we were prolonging the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" he repeated blankly.

"I've always known the truth, even back when we were together. I didn't want to believe it, and for whatever reason, neither did you, but deep down I always knew. It's one of the many reasons I was so insecure. And it wasn't until you went away after Keith's death, without as much as phone call, that I had time to think things over and realize how…_wrong_ we were. And then, of course, when Peyton told me that she still loved you–"

"Peyton told you _what?_"

"Luke," Brooke mumbled in a strangled voice.

Comprehension dawned on Lucas piece by piece. "That…" he wracked his brain, trying to remember, "_that _was why you were so angry and tense during Nathan and Haley's wedding. And that's why you broke up with me…?" It came out sounding more like a question.

Brooke sighed, wiping her tears hastily. "This is all ancient history," she told him, suddenly weary. "And anyway, you can't be blaming P. Sawyer for what happened. Granted, I did the same thing when we were eighteen, but it's different now. And besides, I have other reasons, Luke, you know I have."

"What reasons?"

"Your book," Brooke whispered softly, and Lucas winced. Her eyes didn't waver from his for a second as she continued, "'Suddenly it was as if the roar of the crowd, the echo of the final buzzers, the cheers of my teammates were all sounding from a 1,000 miles away, and what remained in that bizarre, muffled silence was only Peyton," she paused."The girl whose art, passion, and beauty had changed my life. In that moment, my triumph was not a state championship, but simple clarity. The realization that we had always been meant for each other and every instinct to the contrary had simply been a denial of the following truth – I was now and would always be in love with Peyton Sawyer.'"

Lucas gaped at her in disbelief. She had quoted his book verbatim.

"Whatever qualms I had about our breakup disappeared after reading _An Unkindness of Ravens_, Lucas. It made me realize once and for all that I'd made the right decision by finally letting you go. I mean, I was right in the end, wasn't I?"

Lucas sighed, shaking his head. "Not by a long shot," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

He saw the confusion flitter across the brunette's face, and decided to explain. "Look. When Lindsey first read my original manuscript, she thought it was messy, a little unfocused." Lucas chuckled, recalling his first encounter with his editor. "And I understood where she was coming from – I mean, I'd just broken up with you and gotten together with Peyton, all within a few weeks; and even back then, I knew that this chaos in my life was reflected in my book.

"So she made a lot of changes because, frankly, even _she_ got dizzy from the sudden turnaround in my life. Not that I blamed her, but a lot of stuff was edited – little things, big things, the small quirks that made my writing _mine. _And in the end, it became this epic fairy tale where the boy got the girl because that's what sold, you know?"

Brooke remained silent, so Lucas plunged on.

"Just think about it for a second, Brooke. Would Lindsey have really agreed to date me if my feelings for Peyton had come across that strongly? Would _any _rational girl have?"

Brooke's eyes widened in response, and Lucas could tell that he'd taken her off guard.

"And do you _honestly _believe that we love only one person our entire lives? Because that's just ridiculous."

"So what?" the brunette raised a brow, speculative. "Are you saying that you don't believe in true love anymore?"

"No, of course not! I _do_ believe in true love, more than you know. But I also believe in the complexity, variety, and downright insanity of love. A lucky person loves hundreds of people in their lives, all in different ways. But I don't think you lose your ability—or right—to have true love by loving more than one person, you know? Because one, you never love two people the same way, and two, if you're lucky you learn to love better with more practice. But the bottom line is that," he took a step forward so that he could look her straight in the eye, "you have to choose who you are going to commit to – _that's _the foundation of true love, Brooke, _not _the lack of other options."

"Exactly. And you chose Peyton."

"Maybe," Lucas conceded. "But seven years ago, I was ready to choose you. And then not four years after that, I was ready to marry Lindsey. It's not my fault that both of you decided not to believe in the sincerity of that love."

Brooke swallowed hard, and Lucas understood that he had just shattered the shield she had hidden behind for so long. What she really needed was to hear him say that they'd meant nothing. That he was happy and thankful that she'd let him go—that she was right, and she really _had _held him back from happiness all those years ago.

But he couldn't. However much she wanted that, he just couldn't.

"You were always saving Peyton," Brooke said again, only she this time she didn't sound very certain.

Lucas chuckled humorlessly, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you? I've saved Nathan and Haley, too, Brooke. A number of times."

"Never me, though."

Lucas laughed again, only this time there was real humor in his expression. "Save you?" he repeated dubiously, shaking his head. "Brooke, you're the most ridiculously independent person I know."

Brooke's eyes flashed up to meet his, and almost at once she stumbled against the counter, freezing. She exhaled sharply, feeling as though every ounce of oxygen had been knocked out of her system.

Lucas watched the change on her face with worried eyes. "Brooke?"

"Don't say that," she shook her head vehemently.

"Say what? That you're independe– "

"_Don't_!"

Lucas instinctively took a back in surprise. Her face was a misery, uncharacteristically flat and impenetrable. But her eyes – they were what ultimately gave her away. He squinted when he saw the shift of emotions, and he could have sworn he'd seen fear in there somewhere—but in an instant, it was gone. Replaced with a frigid wall that he couldn't even describe. His eyes widened in realization. "Brooke, is there something wrong?"

This was obviously the wrong thing to say. She scowled at him in response.

"Because if there is," he tried again, "if there _is_ something going on with you, you need to tell me."

"Why? It's not like you've ever cared before."

The blonde stared at her in disbelief. "What? Of course I cared–"

The anger flooded through her so fast she didn't really grasp what she was doing until she heard the sound of skin smacking against skin – which was the only indication that she'd slapped him. "_Bullshit_!" she hissed.

Lucas blinked, startled by the raw hatred he saw.

"If you cared," Brooke continued, wiping her cheeks hastily, "you would've asked! You would've asked me what happened!" she cried out, and then suddenly broke down crying, her shoulders shuddering and heaving.

"Brooke–"

"Go to hell, Lucas

And then grabbing her jacket, she fled the room, leaving Lucas staring after her in disbelief.

x-x

Ever since Peyton's funeral, Lucas had used her Comet as a place to seek refuge. In the beginning it had been heartbreaking – to sit in a car he'd spent so long re-making, only for Peyton never to use it again. But lately, it had become (after Sawyer and Brooke) his greatest source of comfort. Somewhere he could just sit down and think and just, well, _brood_ – figure things out. So it really wasn't very surprising when he walked into the garage later that evening and found Peyton in the passenger seat, waiting for him.

For a few minutes, they just sat there in silence. But then Lucas cleared his throat, and what came out of his mouth surprised him. "You told Brooke that you loved me while we were still dating."

"I'm sorry, Luke."

"Why would you do that?" Lucas turned around to look at her. He tried so hard to keep the accusatory tone from his voice, but it didn't come out that way.

"I don't know. I thought I was making the right decision at the time. I mean, the last time everything went AWOL she wanted me to be honest, and…"

"Peyton..."

"I know. I was being selfish. Extremely so, and I see that now."

Lucas saw the regret etched in every line of her face, and knew that she was being sincere. "It's not only your fault," he finally said, sighing as he put an arm around her. "I can't blame all of this on you when I'm partly to blame as well. And Brooke – god!" he shook his head, frustrated, "She should have limits, you know? She shouldn't be this stubborn and selfless and loyal and…" Lucas trailed off, his voice was rough with emotion.

The truth was he loved her loyalty.

Peyton laughed gently, reading him like an open book. "It's okay, Luke. I understand. I love her for the same reasons, too."

Lucas turned to Peyton again, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "I care about you so much, Peyt."

"I know."

"I just…"

"I know," the blonde nodded. "We were young and stupid – and we broke not only Brooke's heart, but Lindsey's as well; both of whom took it with a lot more grace than we ever deserved.

"_But_," Peyton turned in her seat so that she was looking straight at him, "I want you to remember that none of this devaluates my love for you in any way, okay? You were – and still _are_ the one constant in my life, Lucas Scott, and nothing – _nothing_ can change how I feel about you. I have total faith in the idea that we are meant to be together."

"Total faith?"

"Total faith. Sawyer is a testament to that." She ran a gentle hand along the side of his face, smiling, albeit a little sadly. "But now I have a chance to finally make things right again." She didn't look away as she continued, "Try asking me that question again."

"Which question?" Lucas frowned.

"The one you _really_ wanted to ask me."

Comprehension dawned, and Lucas averted his gaze. It took him a moment to find the words. "Why…is Brooke that furious with me?" he finally mumbled, frowning. "And why," he rubbed a hand across his jaw, still feeling the sting from earlier, "_why_ would she slap me like that? What in the world have I done wrong?" Lucas turned to Peyton again, imploring her to explain the enigma that is Brooke Davis.

There was a long moment of silence, and then, "Remember John Daniels?" Peyton finally mumbled, equally as soft.

The confusion hit him with full force again. "The guy who shot Quinton?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, what about him?"

Peyton closed her eyes and tried again, fighting to stay calm. "The night you proposed to me, Brooke got hurt. By…him."

Lucas froze at once, pulling his arm away. "What?" His voice was calm, cold...unfeeling…

Peyton seemed to mentally prepare herself for the onslaught she knew was coming. "There was a break in, and John–"

"Break in?" Lucas repeated as his mind filled with fog. A fog so dense that nothing seemed to make any sense any longer. "What do you mean there was a _break in_? Where?"

"At...at the store."

A forbidding feeling prickled in the pit of his stomach. "Which store?"

Peyton didn't answer, and the silence was just what Lucas needed to understand. "Oh my god," the realization hit him with a force of a wrecking ball, a battering arm, and he stumbled out of the Comet, gasping for air, "Oh my god."

"Lucas," Peyton reached for him, but he was beyond hearing anything.

"Brooke was hurt?" Lucas repeated, shaking his head in denial. "No. No way. You must be mistaken. See, I would have known if she was hurt. I—"

"Lucas…"

Flashes of Brooke's bruised body entered his mind, and he had to close his eyes to concentrate. Even then he'd known that something was off. That 'fell down the stairs' excuse had never been a good cover, and yet, he'd done nothing. _Absolutely nothing_!

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Lucas, calm down," Peyton reached for his arm and whirled him around so that he was facing her. "I said, calm down. _Now_!"

At the sound of her voice, Lucas's eyes flicked up to meet hers and he glared at her. His thoughts raged – resisting control, incoherent. "How _could _you?" he accused, the anger burning in his head so violently he thought he would choke on it.

"Let me explain," she pleaded, but he didn't listen.

"How – how can you not tell me all of this before? I can forgive you for what happened in high school, Peyton, because I love you and we were young. But this, _this_…"

"She told me not to tell you."

That made Lucas pause again. "What?"

"I think she wanted," Peyton hesitated, "subconsciously, at least – for you to figure it out and come to her yourself."

Unbidden, several memories came spiraling into the present.

_Sometimes I just wish you could rescue me…_

_Okay, if you promise to rescue me back.  
>I promise.<em>

She'd saved him. That much was for sure. She'd been there for him through thick and thin throughout last five years, helping him move on after Peyton, encouraging him to stick to his book and follow his dreams and get published; she'd comforted him about Lindsey; let him confide in her about his confused feelings. She'd made him laugh, think, believe, hope. She'd been his lifeboat. And even now, two years later, she'd dropped everything to look after Sawyer and him without any expectations, without as much as a second glance at her own life.

But had he saved her back?

"She would've told me herself…" Lucas trailed off uncertainly, shaking his head. He slid against the wall to the floor. "She would've come to me and…"

"Would she?" Peyton asked softly, sitting down beside him. "We left for Vegas just hours after she lost Angie, and then we deserted her when she was most vulnerable and probably needed us the most. We shouldn't have done that, Luke; not when we are the two people she loves most in the world."

A choked gasp of revulsion escaped his throat.

Peyton was right, of course. They had been wrong to bask in their happiness so flamboyantly when, time and time again, Brooke had done the exact opposite. Even then, he'd known that she was mad at him for leaving so soon after Angie. He'd spent nights knowing that he'd ruined their fragile friendship.

She would never have come to him. She wouldn't have come to him even if she'd been handcuffed to the road and run over.

God, she must have hated him. He wondered if it was possible for her to hate him as much as he hated himself right now.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," Peyton mumbled, her words reaching Lucas one by one.

"What do I do, Peyton?" he suddenly turned to the blonde, his expression helpless. "How do I make this right again?"

She scrutinized his face carefully, and then reached out take his hand in hers before giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know exactly what you have to do," she said. Then she kissed him on the temple and disappeared into the night air, leaving him with nothing to show for her presence.

x-x

Lucas knocked on the door of the nursery before he opened it, where he found Brooke sitting by Sawyer's crib, gently stroking his daughter's stomach. Their gazes met for a short second, and the deep agonizing pain in his expression told Brooke that he knew. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, spiking her lashes; and as always, the sight made Lucas's chest hurt.

He crossed the room in three long strides toward her. "I'm sorry," he murmured, sitting her down on the carpeted floor and putting both his arms around her. He held her and patted her. He brushed her hair from her face and wiped her tears like she was his baby. Brooke felt the solidness of his body enveloping hers, and she let him. He tended to her tears, even though he had his own. "I'm so sorry," he apologized again and again.

She sniffled. "It wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was. I should've been there."

"You didn't know."

"I _should _have known," Lucas muttered. He wasn't ready to forgive himself yet. Not for this. _Never_ for this. His throat funneled tight at the thought of all those bruises marring her creamy white skin. "How…" he forced a deep breath and started again, "how badly were you hurt?" he mumbled, wincing. As the words left his mouth, Lucas felt as though he was experiencing everything of death, except for its merciful dying.

He felt her tense in his arms again, but then she just shrugged, "Not that much."

"Don't," Lucas closed his eyes. "Don't do that. Don't you lie to me again."

Brooke raised her eyes to his, and for a long moment they just stared at each other. Lucas watched as new tears welled up and spilled over.

"Tell me what happened," he whispered. "Please."

Brooke swallowed hard, taking a deep shuddering breath before she spoke again.

"I was...working late. Angie had just left—you know." He nodded over her head. He knew firsthand how Brooke liked to distract herself with work when she was upset. "An—and, he just came in. Out of nowhere, he just appeared. Then he—" A maverick sob escaped her throat, and Lucas ran a hand up and down her back in soothing motions. "Lucas, I was _so_ scared."

His arms automatically tightened around her. "I know," he whispered. "But you don't have to be frightened anymore. I'm here."

She nodded, relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. She could still picture that night as though it had happened just moments ago; but something was different now. Somehow with Lucas's arms around her, the pain, the fear wasn't as intense as it once was.

"After he left, I...just lay there." He stroked her back gently when she shivered. "I don't know how long it was before I moved."

"Were you knocked unconscious?" His voice was flat, void of emotion; hiding the fury and the pain.

"No," she started crying harder. "I wish I was, but I remember all of it. Every-fucking-thing." She let out another gut wrenching sob. Lucas rested his cheek against hers, whispering reassurances in her ear that she barely heard but somehow wiped away all her unease.

Little did she know that he, too, was trying to control himself as another surge of (_angry_) tears brewed behind his own eyes.

"Then what happened?"

She shrugged against him. "I...picked myself up and walked home," she sniffled again, feeling him stiffen against her. "I didn't want anyone to see me."

"Why not?" he asked before he could stop himself. _Why did she always refuse help?_

She was silent for a moment, and he wondered if he'd finally pushed her too far. But then, she spoke again.

"I..."There was no image violent enough to exculpate the force of the memories that hit her again. _Pools of blood, blood on skin, blood in hair, blue, black, tears, cuts, pain. _"I looked disgusting, Lucas. Like something out of a horror movie."

"What?"

"I _did_," she sobbed. "I was sweaty, and weak and pathetic—"

"Brooke—" He cupped her cheek, but she wouldn't look at him.

"And I'd just let this stranger come into _my _store and destroy my life's work. And I couldn't even defend _myself_, you know?"

"Hey, hey, hey...Pretty Girl." Her old nickname drove her to meet his eyes again. "You are the most beautiful woman I know. And don't you _ever_ think of yourself as pathetic. You're so strong, Brooke."

She sobbed. "I didn't feel very strong."

"But you are. You...you dealt with this all by yourself. You kept this darkness hidden and you survived and somehow came out stronger than before. You're so brave, and it's important that you remember that, okay?" She sniffled and leaned her head on his shoulders. _She was beautiful, and brilliant and brave. _"I just wish you had told me sooner," he mumbled, regretful again.

"You were engaged. I didn't want to burden you."

Lucas stiffened, "You'll never, _ever_ be a burden to me," he told brunette, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You understand? Never."

Brooke nodded. She felt the stubble of his chin on her scalp as she buried her face deeper into Lucas's shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent and holding on it as if it were a lifeline. There was a long quiet except for the wind and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Lucas cleared his throat. "Hey. Brooke?" he began hesitantly. He had something to set straight so he waited until she'd looked back up at him again. "I know I wasn't exactly your knight in shining armor," he swallowed the sorrow and shame his words gave him. "Actually, I've never been your knight in shining armor. But just because I didn't save you very often, that doesn't mean that I didn't love you. Because I did."

"Sometimes it didn't feel like it," Brooke whispered.

Lucas closed his eyes. How had they misunderstood each other so much?

"Well, it's the truth," he said firmly, fighting to keep his voice even. "Whatever else anyone tells you, I want you to know that in all those months that we were dating, I was _not_ pining after Peyton. Every time I told you that I loved you, I did _not_ picture her face instead."

Brooke shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Of course, it does. Brooke," Lucas pulled her away a little so that he could look her in the eye, "I loved Peyton with all my heart. I married her for a reason, you know? But that moment when you broke up with me, that moment when you walked out my door," his grip tightened around her arms, "I loved only _you_, and I need you understand that. Okay? Peyton came much later."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and the only sound in the room at that moment was their breathing which was oddly in unison.

"Okay," Brooke finally nodded.

"Good. Now," he pulled out a leather bound book from behind him and started flipping through the pages quickly. "I need you to read something for me," he pointed to a seemingly random paragraph. "Here."

Brooke raised a brow at him. "What's this?"

"One of my first drafts. _Unkindness of Ravens_ started off as diary when we were still dating and – well, just read it. Come on," he nudged her gently.

After shooting him another questioning glance, she took the book from him. "Brooke Davis. Brilliant, beautiful, brave. And even _that_ seems inadequate a description," Brooke paused, taking a deep breath. She looked at him again before continuing. "After all, how can I convey to someone who's never actually met her how my stomach knots up every time I see her shake loose her hair from her braid? Or the wonder I feel when she finishes my sentences, or turns the mug we are sharing so that her lips land exactly where mine have been? _How _can I adequately explain that she belongs to me because she's everything I'm not? Not my soul mate exactly, but my twin flame? Or how it doesn't matter where we are – the locker room, the basketball court, or the spiny woods of Tree hill – but as long as my pretty girl is with me, I feel at home?

"Yes, Brooke Davis is going to change the world some day. She's certainly changed mine, and I'm not sure she even knows it yet."

She finally looked up to see Lucas staring at her, his brilliant blue eyes penetrating.

"We _did_ have a history, Brooke," he said, and then he smiled. "It was beautiful, and it was magnificent, and no one – _no one_ has the right to erase it. Including us," he added with a meaningful glance.

Brooke's lips trembled.

"Especially us," Lucas said, reaching out to take her hand in his, warm and firm. And this time, she didn't let go. This time, Brooke Davis held on to Lucas Scott for dear life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own One Tree Hill. Thank god.

**A/N: **So here you go, my next update. This is so long even I had a hard time reading it more than twice, and I'm sorry once again for any unintentional typos/grammatical mistakes. I'm sorry if it's boring, but honestly – this has probably been my favorite chapter to write so far, and mostly because there isn't much angst in it. Well, not as much as angst as usual. lol! I hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Brucas owns my heart, as do you guys.

Once again, thanks guys for all the amazing reviews! Your response to that last chapter was pretty amazing and I love all of you for it. I wish I could give each and every one of you something (a Brucas happy ending on the show perhaps?), but I'm going to settle for a super long chapter. That being said, my next update is going to take much longer coz I haven't written squat. Not to mention, work keeps piling up. But if inspiration hits, we'll see how fast the creative juices will flow. Haha.

As for _craxygirl54_'s question about whether Brucas will actually end up as a couple in this, my answer is definitely yes! Peyton appearing is one way of making Lucas not seem as fickle as he appears on the show, moving from one girl to the other like a humming bird. His wife just died, and however much we Brucas fans hate to admit it, Luke did love Peyton in Mark's world so I'm trying to keep the characters 'in character' as much as possible. Besides, I want to actually explore Lucas's realization of the beauty that is Brooke and have it done as slowly and realistically as possible without devaluating the Brucas love (or Leyton for that matter). Coz we all know, they are amazing. Brucas, I mean.

Now this A/N is going to be even longer than the chapter if I continue, but I just wanted to to say – is anyone excited that CMM is returning to Tree Hill _without_ Peyton? No offence to Leyton fans, but maybe we'll finally get some Brucas scenes. Even if they only appear as friends. What do you guys think?

On that note, thank you so much everyone! Please enjoy, and don't forget to review. Feel free to give constructive criticism because really, I'd love to improve in any way I can.

-X-

**Chapter 6**

There were many things Lucas Scott learnt about Brooke Davis over the course of the next year.

He knew, for instance, that she wouldn't come within a mile of a martini. She would absolutely _not_ eat squid or mussels or apricot jam, and he knew that she could smell rain a day before it came, sense snow by the color of the sky. And last but not least, Lucas knew first hand that the only thing worse than having to share a house with the bubbly brunette was having to share a bathroom with her.

Tackling the former first – she liked to play jazz music before she went to bed, which would've been all right except for the fact that the walls were unfortunately thin and their rooms were right next to each other. One night, he'd told her to turn it off, but then she hadn't been able to fall asleep and he'd had to spend the rest of the night listening to her tossing and turning in her bed. To this day, Lucas still hadn't figured out how Sawyer managed to sleep through the racket.

In terms of the latter, having a communal bathroom with the brunette was torture in two ways. He had briefly lived with her junior year, dated her twice, and now that they'd lived together for almost a year, he should've really been used to her daily routines by now. Right? _Wrong._ Because if an average girl spent an unusually long time in the bathroom, then Brooke Davis was twice – no, _ten_ times as bad.

"Brooke!" Lucas knocked on the bathroom door for the hundredth time that morning, irritated. "For God's sake, you've been in there for over an hour now!" He had a meeting with his agent this morning, and at this rate, not only would he be late, but he'd probably lose his job to boot.

"Calm down, Lucas," Brooke's voice floated out from under the door. "I'll be out in a minute."

"You said that half an hour ago, Davis! I'm serious. You open this door right now, or–"

"What? You'll squint at me?"

"That's it. I'm coming in."

Brooke just laughed in response. "Have fun walking in on me naked."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "I've seen you naked a hundred times before, Brooke. I think I can handle it," he muttered under his breath before pushing open the door and stepping into the bathroom…

…where he promptly stopped in his tracks.

Well, she wasn't naked. Not exactly. But Lucas immediately remembered the second reason he hated sharing a bathroom with Brooke Davis. She was sitting on the rim of the tub, painting her toenails. Hair was dripping wet from the shower, she was clad in only a fluffy white towel, which was wrapped low on her chest and extended no farther than her upper thigh.

_Fuck. _

Brooke looked up from her nail painting. "Jeez, Luke, I was about to come out," she batted her eyelids innocently.

Lucas had been prepared to fume, but all prior plans flew out the window when he saw Brooke in her current state of dress. He just stood there like a dumbass, very clearly staring at her cleavage.

"Just hurry up," he finally mumbled, feeling his body starting to react. And then, just as quickly, he turned on his heel and left. He _was _a man.

He eventually got sick of waiting, and abandoned his attempts to shave, brush his teeth, and shower. After quickly checking in on Sawyer, who was still fast asleep, he made a mental note to call and reschedule his meeting, knowing full well that Jack would probably give him shit for it later.

Downstairs, he found Nathan and Haley waiting for him in the kitchen. He didn't even bother with a greeting as he sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. Conversation was the last thing he felt like engaging in right now, and besides, he was happy to let his brother and sister-in-law do whatever it was that they were doing in relative peace (reading the paper in Haley's case and playing with Sawyer's yo-yo in Nathan's).

Haley, however, didn't return him the favor. "Good morning, sunshine!" she sang, all smiles. Lucas just grunted in response, and she caught on to his mood immediately. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, did we?"

Nathan was the one who answered for him. "Nah, he just walked in on a half naked Brooke."

Lucas almost dropped his mug in response. "_What_?"

"Nathan!" Haley reprimanded, but she was laughing too – mostly at the very alarmed expression on her best friend's face.

"I'm just saying. I mean, don't his pants a look a little tight, Hales?"

This time, Lucas _did_ spill his coffee and burnt his arm in the process. "That's not funny," he glared at his younger brother, ignoring the fresh peals of laughter Haley had burst into.

"It's a little funny," Nathan smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"What's funny?" Brooke asked as she walked into the kitchen, and Lucas froze at once.

"Nothing," he quickly said, shooting a quick glance at Nathan, who disregarded the warning that was so obviously stamped across the blonde's face.

"Oh come, Luke. You've got to tell her about how your jeans are getting–" He broke off mid-sentence when Lucas's foot connected with his shin. "Ow!" he winced, leaning down, and Lucas patted him on the shoulder, taking a moment to squeeze the younger Scott's arm painfully. Seeing Nathan flinch again brought him perverse joy.

"All right there, Nate?" he asked with mock concern, to which Nathan just glared at him.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

"Anytime, man," Lucas bit back a smile, before he turned back to the brunette. "It was nothing," he repeated.

"Right. Um," Brooke stared at the both of them, brow furrowed. Then she glanced at Haley, who only shrugged in response.

"Don't ask me," the smaller brunette said, raising her hands up in a helpless gesture. Still frowning, Brooke finally turned her back on them, and Lucas shot Haley a grateful look. "You're welcome," she mouthed, though it was blatantly obvious that she still wasn't done being amused yet.

"So," Brooke spoke up, pulling on her apron. "What would you guys like to have for breakfast?"

"Scrambled eggs," Lucas answered, but Brooke just waved him off with a simple flick of her wrist.

"I'm done being _your_ chef for the year, Broody."

"Ouch," he winced playfully. "How easily I'm replaced."

"Always the drama queen," Brooke winked at him, and then turned back to the other two. "_So_, what's it going to be?"

Haley frowned. "Since when did you own apron?"

"Since I started cooking."

"You _cook_?" Nathan repeated dubiously, and Lucas snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. She would be throwing a tantrum in…one, two, three…

"Hey!" Brooke glared at the younger Scott, and Lucas was instantly reminded of the first time she had made breakfast for _him_. The thought made him smile. "I don't like that tone of surprise, mister. I _do_ cook. All right? In fact, I'm a _great_ cook. Right, Lucas?" she immediately turned to Lucas, who only raised a brow at her in response.

"Mm-hm."

Haley laughed. "_That's _a positive response if I've ever heard one."

"No, Brooke's right. She makes a mean waffle when she puts her mind to it," Lucas said, and Brooke smiled smugly in response.

"See?"

But that smugness promptly disappeared when he continued, his voice teasing. "But breakfast is all Brooke _can_ do. I had to teach her how to switch the oven on when she first arrived here."

"Luke!" Brooke slapped him on the shoulder, but she was laughing, too. Eyes twinkling, she turned back to Haley and Nathan. "I told him that I'd be more than happy to move out, but then he'd have to do his own laundry, you see."

"Haha," Lucas stuck his tongue out at her, and Brooke pushed his face away, grinning.

"Stop that! Or I swear I'll cut it off."

"Oooh," his hands immediately flew to his crotch, and Brooke glared at him playfully.

"I meant your tongue, you dork!"

"Oh," Lucas dropped his head sheepishly. "Right. Well, you've never had problem with it before."

Brooke slapped him again, only this time a deep blush tainted her cheeks.

Watching the both of them bicker, Haley couldn't help but feel as though she'd just been transported back to their senior year of high school; and that feeling only amplified when she heard Lucas laugh at something Brooke had said. How on earth had she forgotten how golden they were? As epic as Lucas and Peyton had been, Brooke and Lucas belonged to a different caliber altogether – the opposite end of the spectrum. If Peyton had been his comet, Brooke was his sunlight, casting a glow on almost every part of his life that she touched.

Smiling, Haley exchanged a knowing glance with Nathan from across the counter. _Well_, _well,_ she thought, picking up an apple from inside the fruit was going to get interesting.

-X-

Two weeks into the new year, Brooke _did_ decide to move out. It was time he learnt to do his own laundry, she teased him, before packing her bags and leaving. But Lucas knew it was more than that – always so attuned to everyone's feelings (and especially his), she had decided it was time she stopped intruding into his life with Sawyer. After all, now that he was back on his feet again, did he really need her anymore?

But Lucas couldn't help but think that she had gotten it all wrong this time. Brooke had done anything _but _intrude. In fact, she had woven herself so thoroughly into his and Sawyer's lives that when he thought about it – the warp threads, all the colors, and the intricate design – if she weren't in it, Lucas was certain everything would look and feel different. He couldn't even _picture_ something as basic as Sawyer and himself without picturing her; and on the few occasions he _did_ think about the future and the big milestones that were sure to come (like Sawyer's next birthday, Sawyer's first day of school…) Brooke always appeared, whether he wanted her there or not.

And he missed her. That was probably the biggest truth of all.

Whenever he walked into the kitchen in the morning, he missed seeing Brooke at the counter, intent on cooking her next big creation. He missed watching her hazel eyes light up as she played with Sawyer. He missed fighting with her for the bathroom. He missed that god awful Jazz music she played, and most of all, he missed her inherent bubbly nature. She took everything in a stride, _including_ Sawyer, and that was something he now sorely missed whenever he had to square off and feud with his daughter during meal times, sending her into paroxysm of loud brattiness.

However, as much as he missed Brooke, Lucas felt just as anxious about losing Peyton. She hadn't appeared very often in the last year, and even when she did, she was a pale comparison to what she'd been like in those first few months. Lucas had actually taped a picture of the blonde to his laptop recently, and had taken to looking at it whenever he couldn't remember something important, like the exact color of her eyes or the slender shape of her jaw line.

And on the few occasions, he started thinking of Brooke instead, and the last conversation he'd had with Peyton in the Comet, the guilt would overwhelm him. Was it wrong that he found himself wondering how his life may have turned out if Peyton _hadn't_ told Brooke about her feelings? Or if Brooke hadn't been so insecure about their relationship? These were ridiculous thoughts because, really, as Brooke had said, this was all ancient history. But the brain was a misbehaving organ if there ever was one, and it just wouldn't comply with overall discipline.

The second Saturday of January had been predicted to be a stormy one, and when it arrived, the residents of Tree Hill were not disappointed. It was a freak weather pattern apparently, a string of monsoon rains across the Northeast.

By nine o'clock the wind had already picked up, howling through the streets like a child in pain, and Lucas stood up to tape the windows and store water in the bathtub as the weatherman had so eloquently suggested. Halfway through the task, he checked in on Sawyer again and then suddenly had the idea of calling Brooke to make sure she was okay. After all, Lucas knew firsthand how much she hated thunder storms. Heat lightening was one thing, but lightening itself…

His hand phone suddenly rang then, interrupting his train of thought, and Lucas flipped it open without even bothering to look at the screen. "Hello?"

"Luke!" Haley sighed in relief on the other end.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Is Brooke with you?"

"Um…no," he paused, wondering if it was just a coincidence that the bubbly brunette had appeared, unbidden, in both their minds at the same time. Then again, Haley knew about Brooke's aversion to storms as well. "Why?"

"No, I just – she isn't answering her phone and…"

"Did you try her cell?"

"Yeah. No answer."

Lucas frowned, the seeds of Haley's anxiety beginning to take root in his own body. "That's…not good."

There was a sudden knock on the door, and then the doorbell rang. Craning his neck to look through the window, Lucas sighed in irritation when the rain whipped across the window panes, making it almost impossible to see anything. The doorbell rang for a second time.

"Hey, Hales. Just a sec. There's someone at the door, and–"

"Luke!" a familiar voice called from outside.

Lucas froze, glancing up at once.

"Lucas, please! Open up!"

"Shit, that's Brooke!"

"_What_?" he heard Haley demand from the other end.

Ignoring his best friend, the blonde quickly ran to the front door and reached for the doorknob. And sure enough, the brunette was standing on his front doorstep, drenched to the bone.

"Brooke, what the–"

Haley's voice echoed in his ear, "Luke, what's happening?"

But Lucas only had eyes for the young woman in front of him. "Hey," she smiled sheepishly even as the rain pelted against her. It was like a sheet, soaking through her clothes and plastering them to her slim body. "Can I come in?"

She shivered as she said the words, and that was what ultimately unlocked Lucas's frozen limbs. "Yeah, come on in," he moved to the side and quickly ushered her into the house. "Brooke, what the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, shaking his head. He helped her remove her coat and then pulled out a towel from inside the linen closet for her to dry herself up.

"I know, I know," she grimaced, raking a hand through her wet hair. "I'm sorry to barge in at a time like this–"

"That's not the problem. We were–"

Brooke spoke over him, "But it suddenly started thundering, and you know how much I hate thunder storms."

That he did. "Don't tell me that you actually _walked_ out all the way here in this weather, Davis."

"I, um…walked out all the way here in this weather?"

"Brooke!"

"My car wouldn't start, all right! I'm guessing there's something wrong with the starter motor or something. Not that I'd actually know since I can't even tell the difference between an engine and a radiator... That _is_ what it's called right?"

Lucas snorted at the way she got so easily sidetracked. "And you didn't think to call?"

"My…battery died?" she shrugged sheepishly, and Lucas couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"Oh, Brooke," he shook his head with a chuckle.

She started laughing, too. "Believe me, Luke. It really _was_ a series of unfortunate events."

"Lucas?" He heard Haley call his name again and realized with some surprise that he still had the phone in his hands. Bringing it up to his ear, he quickly assured Haley that her friend was fine.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"She's in one piece, right? All her limbs are in order?" she asked, now on speaker phone, and Brooke rolled her eyes, still toweling her hair.

"Yes, I'm fine, tutor-mom!" she said, and Haley seemed convinced.

"Good. Now can you sock her one in the eye for me, Luke?"

Laughing, Lucas said his goodbyes and hung up.

Brooke winced, wrinkling her nose in that guilty way of hers when he finally kept the phone down. "So I guess I had you guys all worried, huh?"

"Yes, you did."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about. We're used to it."

"Hey! I'm a responsible young woman!"

"Mm-hm," Lucas nodded, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. "We'll let the last twenty minutes speak for itself."

"You're mean," the brunette pouted.

"And you need a hot shower," Lucas turned her around so that she was facing the bathroom, which was exactly where she headed to soon afterwards without a complaint. Fifteen minutes later (it had to be her shortest shower yet!), she was wearing one of Lucas's oversized sweatshirts and pants, carrying Sawyer around and cooing in the baby's face. Watching her flit across the nursery, Lucas couldn't but help think that Brooke had definitely made her long-awaited visit at the best possible of times since the thunder outside made it almost impossible to put Sawyer to sleep. Not to mention, there was no way Lucas would've hit the pillows himself, either.

"Oh god, Luke, I missed her so so much!" she nuzzled her nose with his daughter's, and Lucas found himself smiling slightly at the grin that lit up Sawyer's face.

"She's clearly missed you, too."

_I've missed you as well_, he wanted to add, but he didn't.

Sawyer reached out to touch Brooke's chin. There was moment of silence, then – "Mama," she gurgled, and time stopped. For a few seconds, at least.

Lucas slowly glanced up at Brooke and saw that her expression of shock matched his to tee. "Oh my god!" she suddenly cried. "Did you hear that?"

"Mama," Sawyer said again, more clearly this time, and Lucas's smile widened in awed disbelief. His daughter's first word. _Mama. _The sense of pride that suddenly overwhelmed him trumped the joy he'd once felt when Peyton had looked him in eye and said, _'I do'_; or even the vivid sense of accomplishment that had chorused through him upon the publication of his first book.

"You bet I heard it," he shook his head, still in disbelief. "Wow, that's just…"

"Amazing?" Brooke supplied. "I told you she was smart. Well, there you have it, Luke. Your daughter's first word. _Mama_," Brooke smiled smugly, but then to Lucas's complete surprise, it disappeared a second later, along with the good-humored twinkle in her eyes.

"Hey," Lucas nudged her gently, frowning. "Brooke? You all right?"

Swallowing hard, she finally looked up at him, and her pale, defeated expression startled him. In no way did it fit into the glowing sphere of happiness that presently encompassed the room.

"She – she called _me_ mama," Brooke finally explained, her voice barely above a whisper; and when the realization hit him, _hard_, Lucas froze almost at once.

"Oh."

Tears prickled Brooke's eyes, and after hastily handing Sawyer to him, she quickly made her way out of the nursery, almost tripping over the doorstep on her way out. Lucas stared after her with an old feeling of sorrow, and once he managed to rock Sawyer back to sleep, he entered the living room to see the usually bubbly brunette sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked anything _but_ bubbly right now, and the anguish on her face made his head hurt.

Granted, he felt sad, too, but it was easier to deal with her sadness first.

"Brooke–"

"I'm so sorry, Luke. I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I mean, I tried so hard to make her call Peyton mama but…"

"Brooke," he couldn't help but laugh a little heavily, even though the circumstances were entirely inappropriate, "this isn't your fault."

She didn't even seem to hear him as she continued, "I mean, I know I've always wanted to be a mom, but never, _never _like this. Peyton was her mom, you know. _She_ was supposed to be the one here with you, with Sawyer. Not me."

"Peyton's dead," was all Lucas said in reply to this, and then cringed at his choice of words. Brooke winced, too, and then promptly started crying.

It had been more than eight years since they'd been together, and Lucas still couldn't hear her strangled sobs without feeling his own throat funnel tight. Without pausing for a beat, he joined her on the couch and pulled her onto his lap. "Don't cry, Brooke," he murmured softly, gently rubbing her back. "Come on, don't cry. You're too pretty to cry."

Brooke hiccupped a laugh, but the tears just wouldn't stop. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she mumbled into the crook of his neck, and he nodded. "Peyton wasn't supposed to die."

"But she did," he winced again. "And you know what?" he quickly continued. "I couldn't have asked for a better mother for Sawyer."

"You're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm not. Brooke, you're incredible," he said, seriously now. "I mean, how many people would've spent every waking hour with Sawyer and me without complaining?"

"I mostly did it for her," Brooke sniffled, and Lucas laughed in spite of himself.

"Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. But what I'm really trying to say is…" he searched for the right words before he spoke again. "You held us up when we were drowning, and you deserve recognition for that, you know? Peyton might've given birth to Sawyer, and yes, she's her mother in the technical sense of the word. But Brooke, you really are her mother in every other way. You've slept, fed and cleaned after her. You've taken her out for walks and taught her how to speak. You've read out loud to her late at night. You're the first person Sawyer saw after she opened her eyes; before _me_, even. And while it breaks my heart to know that my daughter won't have many memories of the beautiful woman who gave birth to her, I'm glad she has you. Because you're the kindest and most amazing person in the world, Brooke Davis; and you know what? I'm sure Peyton would've been glad, too."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Brooke sniffled again. "Thanks, Luke."

"You're more than welcome."

Brushing the hair out of her face, she looked up at him again and wiped her tear stained cheeks. "I'm going to need you to tell me all of that when I break down again in a few months."

Lucas chuckled. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to remember the whole thing, to be honest. That was one long, twisted speech."

"Oh, you will. And even if you don't, you can always make a new one. As I recall, you have a real knack for them."

"Third time lucky, right?"

"Right," Brooke agreed, smiling, before she laid her head down Lucas's shoulder again. "Hey Luke?" she murmured after a moment.

"Mm-hm?"

"I think you're pretty amazing, too."

-X-

By the time Lucas was done with the second chapter of his new book, it was nearly four in the morning. The blasting at the quarry began at five, but he managed to get back to sleep with the pillow over his head. So when the door bell rang at 7 A.M, he seriously considered taking his lap top and throwing it in that general direction, just to make the caller go away. But then he weighed the importance of his unfinished novel and the ridiculous amount of money he'd spent on the appliance, and he dragged himself out of bed in his boxer shorts.

Brooke exploded into the house the minute he unlocked the door. "Good morning, Broody!" she greeted, making her way into the kitchen where she held up the empty coffee pot and tsked. "I have a little favor to ask from you."

"Brooke–"

"Since its Sawyer's birthday the day after–"

"Sawyer's birthday was two months ago."

"_And_? We can celebrate her 1 year, 2 month mark. It's a big milestone."

Lucas sighed, shaking his head. Of course. How could he have forgotten that Brooke liked to celebrate every little step of anybody's life that more often than not, the people in question couldn't keep up themselves.

"Anyway, what I really wanted to ask you was – hey, where's the coffee, Luke? I've only been away for what, three days, and you've already lost it?" She turned around, holding the coffee pot aloft, when her eyes went wide. "Okay, so maybe this isn't exactly the best time to talk to you about favors."

"You think?"

"You're in your underpants, for God's sake."

"Underwear. Grown men don't wear underpants."

"Grown men usually get dressed before they answer the door."

"Brooke," Lucas started. "I've had about three hours of sleep so please, _please_ don't screw with me."

She laughed, unearthing the coffee which was – of all places – in a box with his black shoe polish on top of the fridge. "Okay here's the deal. How about you take a nice, long shower, and I'll make you a good cup of coffee for when you come back looking decent."

Lucas groaned.

"Go on now." She gently pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. "Chop, chop – time is running short."

Half an hour later, Lucas came downstairs, showered and ready – or at least marginally ready. "Why?" he asked pitifully, still semi-incoherent, as he sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the mug of coffee in front of him.

"Because I need to run something by you," Brooke answered from behind his laptop, which she had been buried in since the second she'd sat down across from him, "and this is really the only time I've got available. C'mon Lucas, perk up. I've been awake for two hours already."

"You're psychotic," Lucas grumbled, taking a long swig out of his cup.

"And you're a baby," Brooke retorted, rolling her eyes. "_Writers_."

Lucas glared at her over the rim of his mug. She glanced up, seeing him, and smiled apologetically. "It won't take long, I promise." She paused, and he waved her on in affirmation.

"Okay, so the thing is…"

But Lucas never found out what the thing was. Because that was when Brooke suddenly stopped mid-sentence, wearing a heavy scowl. "Oh, god. Don't you just hate it when people cancel on you last minute? This party is really important," she grumbled, pushing herself away from the laptop. "Why can't JJ understand that?"

"JJ?" Lucas frowned, raising a brow in confusion. "Your stuck up, 'I can't stand kids' publicist JJ?"

"Mm-hm," the bubbly brunette nodded, still distracted.

"Brooke, JJ can't stand Sawyer."

This caught her attention, and she suddenly sat up straighter. "Um, so?"

Lucas's frown became more pronounced. "So…this party is for Sawyer, right?"

Clearing her throat, she quickly closed his laptop. "Right."

He scrutinized her face carefully, now suspicious. "_Only_ for Sawyer?" he asked again, and just as he suspected, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Brooke shot him a sideways glance, and Lucas had to laugh at the guilty expression on her face. He wasn't surprised in the least, and if he was, it was only because he hadn't figured it out sooner; Brooke Davis _always_ had a hidden agenda. "It's kind of a house warming party, too. For Nathan and Haley. _And _me."

"Right," he bit back a smile, shaking his head. He didn't even bother to point out that she'd moved into her new house almost two months ago, and Nathan and Haley had traded up even before that.

"Slash 'I'm kind of bored and want to throw a party' party, too."

"Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

To no one's surprise, she ignored him. "And I really need music. And you make a mean mix when you aren't playing the tortured author of the year, so…will you help me out?" she begged, shooting him the most heartbreaking set of puppy dog eyes he had yet to encounter.

Lucas forced himself not to laugh at her methods of persuasion. Some things never changed.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," he wrapped his hands around his coffee cup as he surveyed the brunette sitting in front of him. "You woke me up at seven in the morning to ask me about making a CD for a brain storm of a party that's not happening for another two days?"

"Mm-hm. Oh yeah, and the margaritas, too."

"Do I get to say no?"

Brooke paused in mock thought. "Um…" she tapped her chin. "Nope."

"Right, then. I guess _that's_ settled with."

"Oh, thank you, Luke!" She flung herself at him without any warning, and Lucas almost stumbled back in surprise. "You're the best. And as a way of returning the favor," she finally pulled away, and Lucas found himself missing her warmth, "I'll help you paint your study."

That made him pause. "Sorry, what?"

"You need help renovating your office, don't you? And well _voila_. You have the best interior designer in all of Tree Hill right at your doorstep!"

"How convenient."

"I know. I thought so, too," Brooke grinned, and as if a switch had been flipped on, her excitement over the new project suddenly started to bubble over. "Oh my god, this is going to be so much fun!" she clapped her hands overenthusiastically.

"Uh, Brooke…" Lucas's lips twitched as he tried not to smile. He cleared his throat. "Don't you want to tackle one issue at a time? First the party, and then…"

Brooke rolled her eyes at him as if the suggestion was beyond ridiculous. "I was cheer captain of the Tree Hill Ravens, student council president, and up until recently, I headed my own company. I was _born_ to multi-task, Luke. _Now_," she rubbed her hands together, "tell me what your plan is."

"My…plan?" Lucas repeated.

"Yeah. For the study. I mean, you have to have some sort of idea for what the room's going to look like, right?"

"Right," he nodded, even though he didn't, and Brooke saw right through him.

"Luke!"

"What?" he yelped.

"_Everybody_ has a plan!"

"Well, I do, too. Sort of. I mean," his mind grabbed at different things, "I always thought that…the room I wrote in should be a reflection of, well…_me…_" he finished lamely.

"A reflection of you?" Brooke deadpanned. "Right. Okay, so what?" She raised a brow. "You want to paint the walls a dull shade of gray with absolutely no windows and –"

"Hey!" Lucas's eyes narrowed, and Brooke grinned wickedly.

"What?"

"I'm not dull."

"_Of course_ not."

Lucas made a face. "I just love that tone of certainty."

"Why, thank you. And it's all right, Luke," she patted him on the back gently. "We'll paint your door red, a _bright_ red, in reflection of the little improvements _I've_ made to your otherwise uninteresting life."

"Thoughtful."

"Exactly," she took the sarcasm in a stride. "And anyway, 'reflection of me' is not a plan, Luke. _That's_ just another example of how much you love to brood about symbolism and imagery and whatever else it is. _So_," she pinned him with her hazel-eyed gaze, "think again."

"You're insufferable," he muttered under his breath, and she was; she was unrelenting. "Fine, um…I don't know. Orange is the color of communication so…"

Throwing her arms up in the air, Brooke gave up. "_Writers_!"

"You know what, that's the second time this morning that you've used that word as an insult."

"Well, can you blame me? Color of_ communication_. Seriously, Luke?"

"What? It might inspire me to write."

"More like inspire you to puke," she muttered, frowning, and then shook her head with a heavy sigh. "You know what, scratch all your plans. We'll do this _my _way."

"Uh-oh."

"Believe me, it can't be worse than having orange walls," she shuddered.

"It was just an idea."

"Yeah, and it was downright horrible. What you need is an amazing and fabulous, Brooke Davis styled office."

"Maybe," Lucas conceded. "But, like I said, I really _do _want the room to be a reflection of my personality, Brooke. Comfortable with a quiet charm," he grinned as the bubbly brunette snorted. "I mean, I definitely have my fabulous moments, but it's not really an adjective you'd usually pair up with my name."

"Not in that sweater, obviously," Brooke put in snidely, with a look of disdain at the offending garment. "But don't worry, Broody. I'll fix you up with a fabulous office that's still a reflection of your mundane personality. Happy?"

"Extremely," Lucas groaned resignedly. "You're not going to stop until you get your way on this, are you?"

"Hey, it's a present. Etiquette dictates that you shut up, and say something gracious about how it's just what you need, etc. etc."

"Right." Squaring his shoulders, Lucas smiled at her mockingly. "Thank you, Brooke. A new office, courtesy of you, is _exactly _what I need."

"That's the spirit! Now…" she picked up a few papers that she had strewn across the counter. "I need to go meet Haley and Nathan and give _them_ the low down. "

"About the renovations?"

"_Ha, ha. _Funny. Hey, can you get me that mix ready by tonight, do you think?"

"Well, I'm going to first try to get some writing done this afternoon, but it's a definite possibility."

"You sure?" The brunette paused. "I mean, _you've_ never been very good at multi-tasking…"

"And the compliments just keep coming, don't they?" Lucas grimaced, and Brooke threw her head back and laughed.

"I love you, too. Anyway, I'll see ya in about an hour or so because I'm definitely gonna need my Sawyer fix in awhile."

"Will do."

"And once this party is over, you are _so_ notgoingto get out of paint shopping, you hear me, Scott? We'll need all the time in the world to choose and check out the – oh my god!" she suddenly frowned, sidetracked. "Catalogues! We need to check out the catalogues as well!" She slapped a hand against her forehead. "How on earth could I forget that?"

"Catalogues?" Lucas raised a brow, staring at her. "Brooke, who goes through catalogues for _paint_?"

"People who don't believe in the 'color of communication'."

Lucas rolled his eyes, practically _hearing _the speech marks in her voice. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope. Be ready to be tormented for the rest of your life, Lucas Scott."

"I'm so looking forward to it."

And watching her disappear through the front door with a wink, Lucas couldn't but help but admit that he really _was_ looking forward to it. All of it.

-X-

Brooke Davis on a mission was worse than Brooke Davis without a mission. With her planner tucked under her arm, she looked like a mini-Hitler (without the moustache, of course) ordering her lackeys around with admirable ferocity for so petite a girl.

"Haley, get those decorations up pronto. Lucas, can you _please_ go make sure that the drinks are in order? And Nathan, stop lazying around, damn it! We only have an hour left before show time and you're still playing Snake on Haley's phone! What the hell is _wrong _with you?"

Nathan just stared at her for a moment before he turned to Lucas. "Dude, does she ever just…relax?" he stage-whispered.

"Nah, I think she periodically makes a whirring sound and then just shuts down," Lucas whispered back.

"Funny," Brooke shot both the brothers a dirty glance before she turned to Haley, who stopped laughing immediately. "But I'm serious, Nate. If you don't get your ass out of that chair in two seconds…"

"Hey, I put the banner up, all right?"

"Yeah, and that was _so hard_, wasn't it? I could've done that with my eyes closed! And on one foot, to boot!"

Nathan frowned. "That's a little harsh, if you ask me."

"I'm not asking."

Biting back a smile, it was Haley who finally pulled the brunette aside and told her to calm down. For a second, Brooke seemed ready to lash out at her, too, but then her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm acting like a total bitch right now, aren't I?"

"Kind of," Haley nodded sympathetically, though Lucas and Nathan had no qualms adding, "Definitely."

"I'm just kind of freaking out with the last minute stuff, and–"

"Brooke, deep breath. Calm down. It's going to be fine."

"But what about–"

"The decorations are all in order. You told me to check on them ten minutes ago, Tigger."

"Really?" Brooke blinked in disbelief.

"And not to mention," Lucas added, smirking at the confused expression on the brunette's face. "I told you that the drinks were done twice already."

"And FYI Davis, I've been trying to contact the caterers, only Haley's phone has horrible cell reception," Nathan muttered, holding the device up in the air. "Though now that I think about it, playing Snake would have probably been a better idea…"

Everyone laughed, with the exception of Brooke. "But what about the ice for the drinks?" she suddenly remembered, and everyone promptly groaned, muttering something about slave labor. "I mean, some people like their ice crushed, right?"

Two hours and twenty five minutes later, everything was done (needless to say, Brooke still believed they could've done a little better with the decorations, but she was outvoted three to one, and there was nothing she could do about that), and the guests started to arrive.

"It's a great turn out, isn't it?" Brooke flitted to Lucas's side half an hour into the celebrations. He instinctively held on to her elbow just in case she floated off into the universe in all her excitement.

"Well, it's a Brooke Davis party. What did you expect?" he shrugged, and then peeked into the living room at the throngs of people who had gathered around the couches. "Besides, there hasn't been a party around here in, like…forever. I, for one, can't remember the last time I walked out of the house, looking like this," he touched his button down shirt in playful self-consciousness, and Brooke slapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, stop," she smiled widely and then glanced down at his hand, which still rested on her elbow. "Um, Luke?" She raised an eyebrow in question.

"All right, so kill me if you have to, but… you are so cheery right now you're practically bouncing up and down, and I feel like I have to hold on to you to tether you to the surface of this planet," Lucas explained, a seed of a laugh in his voice.

Brooke rolled her eyes. She'd been doing that so much lately she was definitely in danger of repetitive stress injury. "Aw, would you look at that. Lucas Scott, single handedly bringing chivalry back into style."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Am not," Brooke denied.

"I definitely sense a mocking tone," Lucas retorted with a knowing glance.

"Brooke Penelope Davis!" Haley's voice echoed through the room before she herselfappeared. "Didn't I tell you to bring the wine glasses more than twenty minutes ago, dammit! Where the hell have you been?"

Both Lucas and Brooke just glanced at her, and then looked back at each other with a grin. "Yeah, sorry about that, Hales," she playfully batted his hand away. "Lucas, here, was just defending his honor."

"Defending honor is very chivalrous," Lucas pointed out.

"Not when it's your own, dork," Brooke made a face at him, oblivious to the small smile that was playing on Haley's lips.

Nathan suddenly walked into the kitchen then, wearing a heavy scowl. "I need a drink."

"Who's Deb flirting with this time?" Brooke asked sympathetically.

"Don't even ask." Pulling out a bottle of beer from inside the refrigerator, he turned to everyone else. "Anyone else want one?"

"Over here, Nate," Lucas held a hand up and deftly caught the bottle Nathan threw at him.

"Oooh, nice," Brooke whistled in appreciation, and he smiled down at her before giving her the beer. "Told you I was chivalrous," his grin widened.

"What the hell," Haley shrugged. "Hand me one, too."

All four of them popped open their bottles simultaneously before Lucas proposed a toast. "To friendship," he said, staring into Brooke's warm hazel eyes.

"And whatever else it may lead to," Haley muttered under her breath, smiling away as she observed both her friends from a distance.

The toast, however, was interrupted halfway through by a very disheveled looking Jamie, who burst through the open doors before the beers had even touched their lips. "Mom, can I–" he started, but the moment he saw Brooke standing by the counter, he promptly forgot whatever it was that he'd been about to ask and ran to her, head first, shouting out, "Auntie Brooke!"

"Hey, Jimmy Jam!" she cried out, equally as excited, before she effortlessly scooped the little boy into her arms. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too!"

"As his godfather, I feel so loved," Lucas said dryly, and Haley shot him a look.

"How do you think _I_ feel? And I'm his mom."

"What party-poopers," Brooke rolled her eyes at the both of them when suddenly, _Follow Me_ by Uncle Cracker started playing. "Oh my god, I love this song!" She turned to Jamie immediately and said, "Dance with me, handsome?"

"Of course."

"And you, too, Broody," Brooke grabbed Lucas's hand and pulled him to the dance floor, and he followed without a word of protest. Her hand was warm in his, and it fit just the same way he remembered. For a second, he closed his eyes, and he could imagine that they were back in high school again. He opened them a moment later, saw her hair swinging loose down her back, heard her laughing, and wondered when the past had begun to blur with reality.

Sometime toward the end of the party, Lucas found himself gravitating toward Brooke's photograph collection, and when he saw the different pictures of Peyton adorning the wall, a familiar ache twisted through his body again. It had been more than a year now since she'd died, and often he worried if he was moving on with his life too fast, and then flipped back to wondering if he was moving too slow. Tonight, the former feeling rooted him to the spot. Was it wrong that he was feeling so…_good_ right now?

"No, it's not," a familiar voice said from beside him, and for a fleeting second, he wondered if he'd said the words out loud. Glancing up from the picture, Lucas found Brooke smiling at him. "She would've wanted you to be happy, Luke."

"Yeah," he mumbled, and then shook his head. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Cut right to heart of the matter. Read my mind like that…."

"It's one of my many talents," Brooke wriggled her eyebrows playfully, and Lucas had to laugh.

"Good to know."

Still smiling, Brooke took the picture from him and looked at it herself. "I remember this day," she murmured softly, running a thumb along her former friend's face. "I miss her too, you know…"

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm. I mean, for one, she would've done a much better job with the banner."

Lucas smiled.

"And she was always my go-to person. I really miss that. Talking to her, laughing…"

"Sometimes I'm worried I'll forget her," Lucas blurted out suddenly, and Brooke turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there are moments when I try to picture her and I can't see certain things clearly – like the birthmark behind her ear, or that little indention on her arm. I'm frightened I'll lose all the details, you know?"

Brooke chose her words carefully before she spoke them. "The more we love someone, Luke, the more we can't picture them when they are away from us. And anyway, you won't lose Peyton," she said with admirable certainty.

"How do you know?"

"Because," Brooke kept a hand over his thumping heart as she said the words, "she's in here. And that's all that really matters."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I don't own any of the characters. Big surprise there.

**A/N: **All right, so this chapter is long overdue, but, really, I've been extremely busy these days which, once again, means I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. That being said, I hope you guys like this chapter 'cause from this point on, there might be a bit of drama and we all know how enjoyable Brucas drama is, right?

Anyway, the response to the last chapter was overwhelming and I love all you guys for it. Thank you so much for making writing a pleasure. And I only hope that I did good by guys with this latest update.

Enjoy! And as always, please review!

-X-

**Chapter 7**

As promised, Lucas received a text from Brooke the following Monday about their interior decorating stint, _You can run, but you can't hide. I'll be seeing you soon, Broody!_

As it turned out, _soon _was code for 8 o'clock the next morning, beating Lucas's alarm to the punch by a good two hours. It must've been his imagination running wild or something; but somehow, Brooke managed to infuse an extra note of imperiousness into the buzzer when she rang it, and because of that, Lucas knew it was her before he even opened the door.

"Don't you ever just sleep like a normal person?" he mumbled groggily as she walked past him.

"Nope, never. Why, do you?" she batted her eyelids innocently, and Lucas groaned. "I'll take that as a yes," she laughed.

"This is the second time in two weeks, Davis. What do you want?"

"I told you I was coming, didn't I?" Brooke shrugged, suppressing a smirk at the sight of Lucas Scott with bed hair sticking up every which way.

"No, you told me you were coming _soon_. And by soon, I thought you meant..._later_."

Brooke frowned, eyebrows raised. "Dude, that doesn't even make any sense. Besides, I'm a morning person. You know that."

"Yeah, but couldn't you have at least come at ten thirty or something? Or eleven?"

"Eleven!" she gasped as if the idea was too preposterous to begin with. "Lucas, eleven o'clock is practically afternoon! Decorating is a process, all right? You can't just squeeze it in between your mid-morning facial and afternoon pedicure."

"Yes, because that's how I usually structure my days."

Brooke slapped him upside the head gently. "Be nice. Anyway, go get dressed quickly because we need to look at paint swatches now. I've brought some catalogues with me, and already marked some pieces that I think would fit the 'look' we were talking about earlier. You can study them on the way, it might help you – no, _me_ decide on a color for the walls and..."

She trailed off once she noticed Lucas quietly banging his head against the door. "Trying to lose your few remaining brain cells, are you, Broods?" she chided, biting back a laugh.

"Trying to shake loose the reason I ever agreed to this."

"Oh, come on. Don't be such a baby. This will be fun!"

"I was up until two a.m. writing, at which point I fell asleep at the kitchen table."

"Well, then. All the more reason to get your new office into place. In fact, _I _think it should have a chaise so that the next time you fall asleep writing you can fall asleep on that. Maybe _then_ you won't wake up such a grumpy old man."

Lucas shot her a dry look. "It's good to know that all the fame and success hasn't changed you one bit, Brooke Davis," he muttered under his breath, and Brooke's answering smile was wide.

"I know, right? Anyway, I've got some coffee and chocolate croissants in the car. Will _that _help your mood?"

Lucas immediately perked up at the mention of a double dose of caffeine. He speedily got dressed, dragged Brooke away from her measurement-taking and down to her convertible to the promised sustenance.

Lucas wasn't all that surprised as he focused on the catalogues Brooke was showing him that the furnishings she had highlighted were exactly the things that he would have picked for himself, if he could've been bothered to go through the trouble of leafing through dozens of store catalogues, rather than just making a one-shop stop at IKEA. They were classic but comfortable pieces, and while eclectic, would complement each other well.

Choosing the color for the walls of the office, however, was something else entirely.

"Okay, how about this one?" Brooke ran a hand along another makeshift wall. "What does this shade of green say to you?"

"Um," Lucas raised a brow. "Beware of crazy young women who talk to green walls?"

Brooke sighed. "Funny, Lucas."

But finally, after a two whole hours of examining literally hundreds of paint colors, (Lucas had never realized that there were so many shades of cream, or that a person – i.e. Brooke – could be fervently in favor of some while zealously in opposition to others), they decided on an eggshell blue for the walls and a Brooke-approved cream for the trim.

Only it didn't stop there, of course. They had to then spend another thirty minutes arguing about how the paint was going to get on the walls. Brooke had taken it for granted that she and Lucas would buy the paint and then hire 'people' to put it on the walls for them, under Brooke's supervision of course. Lucas, however, was adamant that he would be painting the room himself, and that as Brooke had insisted on horning in on the whole re-decorating scheme, the least she could do was make herself useful with a paintbrush. She finally gave in with bad grace.

"You're _so_ gonna pay for my new manicure," Brooke told him before she stalked off to go look for gloves, and Lucas smiled to himself, turning away as well.

When they met again, he found the brunette talking to another customer, and judging by the wide smiles on both their faces, they had definitely passed the 'we just bumped into each other' stage of the conversation.

Brow furrowed, Lucas walked up to them cautiously, overhearing something about a new restaurant opening in town, when Brooke glanced up at once. "Oh hey, Broody." The guy frowned in response, and she quickly corrected herself. "Lucas, I mean. This is the friend I was telling you about," she quickly introduced him to the stranger. "And Lucas…" she turned to him. "This is Kevin Harte."

"Hey," Lucas shook Kevin's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you, too, man. Brooke tells me that you're renovating."

"Actually, no. Brooke's renovating and I'm just watching."

"Hey!" Brooke glared at him playfully, and everyone had a good laugh at her expense, Brooke included.

"Anyway, I've got to go," Kevin said, looking inappropriately regretful about that fact. "Work, you know…"

The brunette nodded before she turned to Lucas. "Yeah, we should probably head out as well."

"Well… I guess I'll see you later then."

"Yeah, later…" Brooke agreed, only no one moved.

Lucas was about two seconds away from rolling his eyes before Kevin finally took a step back. "I have your number so I'll call you."

"Definitely."

"Until next time, then."

"Next time."

And after a few more furtive glances, Brooke and Kevin _finally_ parted.

"So…fiftieth time lucky?" Lucas commented once they were alone again.

"I'm still on cloud nine so shut up."

The blonde bit back a smile. "I'm just saying. I mean, given what happened with that insurance agent you dated last week..."

"Oh, no," Brooke groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Don't remind me."

"Or Christiano, the Italian chef you met during Thanksgiving. Do you remember him?"

"Lucas Scott! Do you _want_ me to kill myself?" she demanded, and Lucas laughed.

"Fine," Brooke admitted grudgingly after a moment. "I guess you're right. I haven't had much luck in the dating department lately. But Kevin's different. He has his own teeth, his own hair and we share a mutual love for the Beetles," the brunette clarified. "He's just a regular guy, and when he calls we'll go on a regular date."

"So there really _is_ a first time for everything."

Brooke tactfully ignored him. "And he also knew that my favorite color was red, Luke. I mean…" she shook head, still in awe, "just what are the chances?"

"Well. Ignoring the fact that both your handbag and sweater are red, not to mention your nails, I'd herald a guess and say pretty slim," Lucas replied dryly, and Brooke shot him a dirty look.

"Spread your broodiness, why don't you, Scott? You're such a pessimist."

"I prefer the word 'realist'," Lucas grinned, and the brunette rolled her eyes at him, even though she was smiling, too.

"Whatever. Anyway, come on, we need to get these babies to the counter," she said, and made a move to lift one of the cans of paint, which she promptly dropped back down again, wincing. "Shit!" she swore. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_!"

"I'll be forever grateful that Sawyer was nowhere within the vicinity," Lucas raised a brow, amused.

"Funny, but I think I just sprained an arm, dude. That stuff's seriously heavy!"

"Or maybe you're just out of form," he teased, effortlessly picking up both the cans and carrying them over to the counter.

Brooke gaped at him in sheer disbelief, then shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She hurried after him immediately. "You're a man. You're _supposed_ to be freakishly strong and muscular."

"Mm-hm."

"And just what do you mean I'm _out of form_," she demanded, her hands on her hips; making a face at him that was entirely inappropriate on a twenty-five year old woman. "I'll have you know that my form is just fine, thank you very much."

She glanced down at herself as she said the words, and in spite of himself, Lucas did, too. His eyes skimmed over the length of her body – clad in a bright red sweater and a pair of blue skinny jeans that he liked _very_ much – and he couldn't say he disagreed. Raising a brow, Brooke smirked at him, and he quickly looked away.

"I wasn't talking about that kind of form, Brooke," he rolled his eyes, averting his gaze from her, but not before he caught the wicked grin on her face.

"I know, but I wanted to ask Haley what she thought about this new pair of jeans; and after seeing _that_ reaction – well, I don't think I'll need to because I'm definitely keeping them now."

"Yeah, and I'm...just gonna go over here now," Lucas whirled around and made his way to the counter.

"Oh, come on, Luke. It's all right if you think I'm hot."

"I'm actually too much of a gentleman to objectify women that way," he said, and then almost burst out laughing at the disgruntled expression on the brunette's face.

"You're downright horrible, Lucas Scott! I mean, what am I supposed to say to _that_?"

"You mean, besides the fact that you think _I'm_ hot? Believe me, there wouldn't be any objectifying there."

"Ass," she muttered under her breath before she turned around and went in search for another paint brush, leaving Lucas laughing after her in real amusement. Shaking his head, he stood in line to pay.

"Oh my god," someone gasped the moment he made it to the front of the line, and he looked up to see a young woman manning the cash register, gaping at him with wide eyes. "You're Lucas Scott, aren't you? The author of _An Unkindness of Ravens?_"

She didn't even give him a chance to reply before she plunged on. "Believe me. I'm not a crazy stalker or anything," the girl finally took a deep breath, "but I love that book!"

"Really?" Lucas smiled in spite of himself. It was always strangely fulfilling to hear those words. "Thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

"I really did. I'm sorry about your wife, though. Peyton. I heard that she passed about a year ago."

His smile disappeared.

"I always thought she was kinda cool, I guess. But _Brooke's_ my girl."

Lucas raised a brow, confused now. "Excuse me?"

The girl smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm making it pretty obvious, huh? I'm a Brucas fan through and through."

"A…_Brucas_ fan?"

"Yeah, you know…merge Brooke and Lucas together, and you get _Brucas_. Sort of like how Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez made Bennifer, and…well, there's Brangelina, of course."

Lucas felt as though someone had just kicked him the gut. And then kicked him again. "Right…" he nodded, clearing his throat. "Of course. Brucas."

"We have fan clubs and everything."

And that was about all he could take.

So he was more than thankful when Brooke appeared then, brandishing three paint brushes in his face. "I thought we could use the extra," she smiled at him, her dimples on full display, when she suddenly noticed the uncomfortable expression on his face. Only she didn't get a chance to ask him what was wrong before–

"Holy crow!" the cashier cried again, startling the both of them. "You're Brooke Davis!"

Shooting Lucas a questioning glance, Brooke turned to her smoothly, a polite but genuine smile on her face. She was clearly more at ease with the attention, no doubt a product of handling the media and paparazzi over the years. "That I am. It's a pleasure to meet you…" she trailed off suggestively, and the young girl got the hint immediately.

"Carly," she supplied, almost bouncing up and down. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too. I've read so much about you I feel like we know each other already."

"Aw, that's so sweet of you, Carly."

"Thanks," she grinned, and then suddenly stopped bouncing. "Hey, wait a minute," she glanced back and forth between the both of them, brow furrowed. She suddenly seemed to come to herself. "You two aren't, like, together or something, are you? Because that would just be – oh my god, that'd be _awesome_!" Her face lit up like a child's on Christmas. "Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis reunited. Broody and Cheery. Pretty girl and boyfriend…"

Brooke just stared at her, stumped. "Sorry, _what_?"

Lucas cleared his throat, and Brooke turned to him at once. "Carly here has read _An Unkindess of Ravens_, and she's a…" he paused, "Brucas fan."

"A Brucas fa– oh," she stopped as the comprehension dawned. "_Oh_." She had gotten it a lot faster than he had.

Carly nodded her agreement. "Mm-hm. You guys are like my most favorite couple ever. Better than Naley, even."

"Naley," Brooke shot Lucas a sideways glance. "Of course. You gotta love Naley."

"Didn't like Leyton much, but…whatever, you know?"

"I'm sorry. Leyton…?" Lucas frowned.

"Lucas and Peyton," Brooke supplied without even looking at him this time.

"You two were just awesome. I mean, the 82 letters, and then that scene in the parking lot, Lucas, where Brooke told you that you had to fight for her…" Brooke and Lucas automatically stiffened at those words, "I mean, it was just so romantic, you know? And what makes it so much better is that it was all real. Right? That's what you said in your interview, anyway."

"Um," Brooke fumbled for the right words before she turned to Lucas for help. "We…gotta go."

"Now," he added.

"Immediately."

"I mean, we're kind of busy. And we really…"

"Have to go," Brooke nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Carly."

"It really was," Lucas added before he slapped down a few dollar notes on to the counter for the cans of paint, and practically ran out the doors with Brooke right behind him.

"I'm still rooting for you guys!" Carly shouted after them, and Brooke cringed, picking up her pace and overtaking Lucas at the very last moment.

"Fuck," he swore the second they were outside.

"Yes, _fuck_!"

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know!"

"Brucas?" he repeated dubiously.

"Well, it's _your_ fault for writing about us! I mean, seriously, Luke? Couldn't you have at least changed our names or something? And Broody and Cheery? _Really_? You could've _definitely_ changed those, you know!"

"What, and made _me_ Cheery and _you_, Broody?"

"It's a fiction, isn't it?"

"Mm-hm. Of course. And while I was it, maybe _you_ could've been the one playing basketball and _I_ could've been the one cheering for you on the sidelines."

"Oooh," Brooke's expression suddenly cleared and her face lit up, "Kinky…"

Lucas laughed in spite of himself. "That was just crazy in there right now."

"You have no idea."

"I can't believe she knew our whole lives."

"Lucas, you practically _wrote_ our whole lives," Brooke rolled her eyes, looking amused now. "What did you expect?"

"Not _fandoms_ for one."

"I know. I should want to kick your ass right now for breach of privacy, huh?"

Lucas remained silent, his expression thoughtful, and Brooke shook head. "And there you go again."

"What?" Lucas blinked at her.

"You were squinting right now, which can only mean that you were brooding…" Brooke smiled at him as she opened the car boot. "What were you thinking about inside that pretty head of yours, anyway?"

"Nothing, I just…it's kind of amazing how passionate these people are."

"It is, isn't it? Fans might be crazy, but they're also downright fantastic. Just look at the following _Harry Potter_ has. Or even _Twilight_."

"Twilight?" Lucas repeated, and Brooke raised a brow at him when she heard the note of confusion in his voice.

"Yeah, _Twilight_. You know… Vampires. Werewolves. Edward, Bella. Any of those ring a bell?"

"Umm…"

Brooke just shook her head. "For someone who's such a literary genius, do you know _anything _about your cultural heritage, Luke?"

"I know about–"

"_Human Bondage_ and _Othello _and _Winter's Discontent_, yeah. But sometimes…" Brooke nudged him teasingly, "it pays off to read something that's not complicated with sentences that are almost a page long, you know?"

"Funny," Lucas shot her a dry look.

Brooke laughed. "Anyway, come on. Let's head home, Broody. We only have about ten hours left till it's a brand new day, and I'm going to get your office done by tonight if it's the last thing I do."

"I'll be damned if you don't," Lucas muttered under his breath and received a hard slap on the shoulder for it. "Ow!"

-X-

Time was money, Brooke insisted. But Lucas still made two stops along the way home, one to pick Sawyer up from Nathan and Haley's, and the other to buy some of the best dim sum in town, just in case, Lucas reminded Brooke, they were too tired to move after all the manual labor to head out again for dinner.

"Are you sure you we have everything we need, Luke?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he repeated. He'd said it so many this afternoon it might as well have become a mantra at this point.

"All right, then. If this new fashion line doesn't work out, I guess I might have to end up painting houses for a living _so_…hand me that brush, would you," Brooke said, adjusting the 'work' sweater she had changed into the moment they'd gotten home. Tying her hair into a sloppy pony tail, she waved a hand for Lucas to move faster, but he hesitated.

True, Brooke had been complaining about painting the room themselves from the word get go, and true, he'd (affectionally) told her to stop being such a snob. But now that they were actually here…

"You've never painted a wall before, have you?"

"It's just a wall, Lucas," Brooke rolled her eyes as she strode past him toward his study with one of the smaller paint cans in her hand. She disappeared into the room. "How hard can it–"

_Crash_.

Sawyer cackled with delight from her spot in front of the TV.

"Um, Luke? Don't freak out or anything, but…"

Lucas was pretty sure he'd never be able to get that paint stain off of his floorboards after today, but maybe it was a fair trade off, he decided, watching Brooke flit around in an apron, doing a terrible job of moving the furniture (or what little he'd left for her to do, anyway) from one end of the room to the other. Sawyer, meanwhile, was sitting in her carrier by the windows, happily shaking her rattle away.

"Let me take care of that," Lucas stepped in when he saw Brooke struggling to carry the cream paint again. "Seriously, Brooke, step away from the giant tin. One patch of paint of my floor is enough."

Brooke made a face at him, but relinquished her grip on the metal lid gamely enough. "Fine. I'll go check on those two book shelves you ordered from IKEA the other day – a total waste of money if you ask me, by the way – and see if they're going to be delivered anytime soon," she decided. "You gave them the address, didn't you?"

"Um, no?" Lucas said.

"Lucas!" Brooke protested, hitting him on the arm. "Where's your sense of responsibility?"

"Brooke, it was _you_ who called them up with the details!"

Brooke tactfully chose to ignore this fact as she picked Sawyer up. "Well, it looks like Sawyer and I are going to have to do some damage control," she told him with heavy sigh before walking off down the hall.

And she _just_ might've been able to pull it off if had Lucas had not caught her lips twitch at the last minute. "Oh, I'm so on to you, Brooke Davis," he called down the hall, knowing full well that she'd staged this whole IKEA-slash-address protest on purpose, just to get out of having to wield a paint brush. "I'm not going to paint this room all by myself."

Faintly, he could hear Brooke and Sawyer giggling deviously. They were definitely bad influences on each other, Lucas decided, shaking his head with a smile, before he dipped his own brush into the paint and began to work again.

He'd just finished the wall on the far side of the room when Brooke waltzed in with Sawyer, picked up a paint brush, painted a few lines on her own wall before she disappeared again, muttering something about getting herself a glass of water. This happened a few more times, and Lucas had to press his lips together to keep from laughing when he caught her play tic tac toe with herself once on the wall because true to her form, Brooke Davis had this thing with paying attention – she wasn't particularly good at it.

Two hours and forty five minutes later, when the walls were finally blue and the trim was cream, Brooke slumped down on to the floor and wiped her brow with an exaggerated sigh. "Wow. That was so, _so_ tiring!"

"Yeah, I can imagine," Lucas said dryly. "All that sitting around and watching _me_ paint must've been a lot of work, huh."

Brooke only smiled serenely in response. "Think of it this way, Luke. Now _I_ don't need a new manicure, and _you_ don't have to pay for it. It's a win-win situation."

"I'm ecstatic."

"I thought so, too!

But her good-humored expression promptly disappeared when Lucas reached behind him and pulled out the two IKEA boxes that had been delivered later that afternoon. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lucas smiled triumphantly, and almost broke down laughing at the look on Brooke's face.

"Oh, god, Luke! You're awful," she groaned, and Lucas's smile widened.

"So they tell me," he agreed when the doorbell suddenly rang, interrupting them, and Lucas heard his front door open and close. "Lucas!" Haley called.

"Dude, where are you?" Nathan called right afterwards, and Lucas yelled back that he was in his study with Brooke.

"Oh, save me, Young Haley and Nathan Scott, from Sir Lucas the Terrible!" the brunette added melodramatically, ignoring the dirty looks Lucas aimed in her direction.

"Very mature, Brooke."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully at the same time that Nathan and Haley appeared in the doorway, stopping short at the sight in front of them. "Whoa," Haley breathed, looking around. "What's going on in here?"

"We just painted the walls," Brooke shrugged.

"_We_?" Lucas repeated, cocking an eyebrow, and Brooke rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Lucas painted the walls, and I watched."

"Much better," Lucas nodded approvingly.

"As any good boss should do," she added cheekily, and Lucas's eye narrowed.

"It looks…really good," Haley complimented as she walked into the room.

"Gee, don't sound so sure of yourself," Lucas grumbled, and Brooke winked at him reassuringly.

Nathan followed after Haley. "So what are you two doing now if you're done with the walls?"

"Assembling Lucas's golden purchases from IKEA," Brooke answered with a grimace, and then suddenly perked up. "Oh, hey, Hales! You can totally help me with this book shelf here."

"Uh, no," Lucas disagreed. "Haley is helping me assemble, Cheery."

"No way. She's _my_ friend."

"Well, she's been _my_ friend for longer."

"I chose her first."

"I _knew_ her first!" Lucas finished with a flourish, and opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, Brooke finally gave up.

"Fine," she glared at him before standing up and grabbing Nathan's hand. "It looks like it's gonna be just you and me then, Nate."

"Oh, so you finally noticed me, huh," Nathan raised a brow, sarcastic, and Brooke smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

"You know I love you, Nate."

But approximately an hour later, Brooke found herself hating everyone and_ everything_ all at once – well, really only the thin metal piece she was holding, but still... "What's this?" she whispered to Nathan, who only shrugged helplessly in response.

"I don't know," he whispered back as he looked up at the bookcase they'd just put together. "I'm pretty sure the picture says it's supposed to go into _this _slot," he said, turning the instruction manual the shelf came with sideways.

"And I'm pretty sure I'm not going to buy anything from IKEA ever again…" Brooke grumbled.

There were a few more minutes of silence, then– "You know what?"

"What?" Nathan asked, still studying the instructions.

"I bet this thing is pretty useless anyway, so…" With a swift glance over her shoulder, Brooke quickly tucked the piece into her pocket and turned to Lucas. "Done!"

"It looks great," Lucas congratulated them, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "But you do realize that in the time it's taken you to do that, Haley and I have not only put _our_ shelf together, but also rearranged half the furniture as well?"

"We're…thorough?" Brooke offered, and Lucas had to laugh.

"So what's new with you guys?" Haley asked as she re-aligned Lucas's photographs on his desk, taking a moment to pinch Sawyer's cheeks. The baby squealed happily in response.

"Nothing much," Brooke shrugged.

"Are you kidding me?" Lucas snorted, before he turned to his friend. "Brooke has a date."

"Really?" Haley turned around, excited, and Brooke leveled Lucas with a glare.

"Yeah. He's a just guy I met at the store today."

"This one doesn't wear a wig, does he?" Nathan grimaced, and Lucas and Haley burst out laughing. Nathan held a hand up defensively when Brooke turned the wrath of her glower on him. "I'm sorry, Davis, but I'm just going on past history here. It's not my fault if you consistently date guys who should have a government warning stamped on them someplace. Case and point," he added, gesturing to Lucas, who stopped laughing immediately and reached out smack his brother upside the head.

"Ass," the older Scott muttered, and this time, Brooke had a laugh at _his_ expense.

-X-

Poetry in motion. For as long as he could remember, those three words succinctly described how Lucas felt about playing basketball on the Rivercourt.

It had been awhile since he'd tried his hand at the game, but it turned out that starting up again was like riding a bike after a long stint of not riding one. Jerky at first, but after a few tries, as smooth as it ever had been.

Eyes trained on the basket, Lucas made the shot, and everything fell eerily silent as the ball precariously rotated around the metal rim. He held his breath, and there was a fleeting moment when he felt as though all the clocks had stopped ticking and the whole world was standing in its balance. He was seventeen all over again, playing for a crowd. The ball tipped inside, and… Lucas finally exhaled. It was the truest form of music there was, the only thing that really mattered, the defining—

_Swish._

God, it still felt good.

"You know, basketball is a _team_ sport," a familiar voice commented from behind him, and Lucas whirled around to see Brooke Davis smiling at him with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans. His answering smile was automatic.

"Teams can be overrated."

She wrinkled her nose at him, hazel eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh my god. Broody's a glory-hog."

Lucas nodded with mock confidentiality. "Just don't tell the rest of the guys," he said before he scooped the basketball up into his hands and turned to face her again. She looked beautiful as always in black boots and a yellow sleeveless top that fell right to her thighs; it was so bright and so…_her_ it only added to her generally sunny disposition. Strangely enough, Lucas couldn't help but think that twenty-five year old Brooke looked a lot more relaxed than twenty-two year-old Brooke ever did.

"Don't worry," the bubbly brunette grinned, grabbing the basketball from him. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank god."

"So…I went out with Kevin today," Brooke said, shooting the basketball herself and wincing when the ball landed nowhere near the hoop.

"Yeah?" Lucas bit back a smile at her horrible attempt at scoring, and then caught the ball before it could bounce off toward the river and passed it back to her.

"Mm-hm," Brooke nodded, catching it again. "He took me downtown for lunch."

"And…?"

The brunette grimaced, and Lucas chuckled. "Let me guess. Hairpiece?" he asked sympathetically. "Wife? Lives at home with his mom?"

"Lives at home with his _dad_," Brooke huffed, and Lucas laughed again. "Hey," she mock punched him in the arm, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. "Stop it, Lucas Scott! You don't get to tease me about this!"

"Oh, come on, it's funny. Or at least, it's a little funny," he said, nudging her gently. When she rolled her eyes at him, Lucas wrapped a comforting arm around her. "Hey, if I was you, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Brooke. You're beautiful, you're amazing, and you'll probably run out of freaks eventually."

"I've _got_ to be getting close," Brooke groaned.

"You'd think, right?" Lucas teased, and was promptly pushed away for it.

"Oh, I hate you! Now stop being such a…a…butt-faced miscreant–"

"Butt-faced miscreant?" Lucas repeated, but Brooke ignored him.

"–and teach me how to play some basketball."

Lucas stared at her for a moment, and then said, "I'm sorry, but butt-faced miscreant?"

Making a face at him, Brooke just positioned herself in front of the net again.

But after about five tries, the bubbly brunette finally came to the invariable conclusion that for all the cheering she used to do back in high school, she couldn't have been watching that closely because she obviously hadn't picked up on any shooting techniques, ever. She was horribly useless at basketball.

Taking a deep breath, she heaved up another shot – it was five feet wide of the hoop this time, backboard, everything – and winced. "I think that might've been worse than the last one."

Lucas laughed and jogged over to the fence to collect her ball. "I don't know, at least you didn't hit me this time."

Brooke glared at him playfully, and Lucas shot her a winning grin as he dribbled back over. "Come on," he coaxed. "You'll get it. You just need to practice a little more."

"Or maybe my whole life," Brooke muttered, and Lucas shook his head at her in amusement.

"All right, look. Come here," Lucas said and turned her to face the basket again. Standing behind her, he positioned Brooke's hands on the ball and lifted her arms a bit to show her the correct way to shoot. Brooke took a deep breath, a little startled and suddenly hyper aware of his close proximity.

"Just bend your legs a little," Lucas told her, and she nodded. Gentle fingers gathered her hair and held it back a little when the wind continued to blow it in front of her eyes. "Try aiming for the backboard above the rim, and then just bank it in. All right?" he coached in a voice that sounded like a whisper against her ear.

Brooke couldn't help but shiver, and swallowing hard, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Lucas said, and when she turned her head to the side a little and caught Lucas's eye, a brief electric current passed between them and Lucas felt his heart flutter at the sight of her hazel eyes up close. For just a second, she was seventeen, and he was seventeen and she was all there was.

_What the hell?_

A faint blush tainted Brooke's cheeks, and Lucas stepped away at once. He took a few steps backwards and cleared his throat, gesturing toward the hoop vaguely. "Okay, take your shot," he encouraged, swallowing hard when their eyes met again.

But she didn't have a chance to because right at that moment, a car pulled onto the side of the court. Both Brooke and Lucas glanced up at once when their visitor cut the engine and opened the door to the driver's side.

Lucas looked at the tall, dark haired stranger who climbed out of the SUV, and felt an odd tingle in the old, blocked off passageways. The neurons fired in the part of his brain that was responsible for present perception, but also in the part that was devoted to memory. And maybe that was why a strange overload took place just then, when he recognized the man and didn't recognize him at the same time.

"Julian," Brooke breathed softly, that single word hanging in the air, and closing his eyes, Lucas remembered another time and place; a younger Brooke in his back seat, whispering:

"_How many moments can you point to and say, 'That's when it all changed'? You just had one."_

Lucas opened his eyes.

Julian Baker was back.


End file.
